The Lazy Lamentations of Cade Valentine
by Alecxias
Summary: Hello, I'm Cade Valentine, the son of Comus Valentine and now inheritor of his father's infamous club: Valentinos. This club, famed for its wild Victor parties, have been in my family for decades, and with it brings lots of stories. Ones that I delve into deeper and attempt to chronicle one by one. After all, each Victor has a story and I will attempt to tell their stories.
1. Prologue - Cade Valentine

The club has seen it's fair few scraps and last night was no different. Cade Valentine was currently nursing a headache, by the bar. He's got his hands on his head, the headache pounding at his very temples that he feels his eyes are just going to pop out.

Last night was intense, in fact, it was the craziest it's been since he inherited the club over four years ago when Viola Aspen had won her Games. He didn't know that the Eightieth Hunger Games latest Victor, Ashe Barrow was going to freak out and end up hospitalising two out of five of his security staff when he freaked out about some girl that touched him.

He sighed as he looked around the club; it's still trashed. He had sent all his staff home after Robin Malus and Orion Atomos, two previous Victors, have taken Ashe home. The girl had apologised profusely and Cade didn't care, he was just happy that no one had died.

It made him wonder though. What the other Victors were like, how did they feel, he knew what they looked like and what he assumed they felt but it's frequent practice for the tributes to lie and put up angles to gain favours in the Capitol.

In fact, he had fallen for Robin Malus' fierce act but the girl who had apologised profusely and certainly the girl who was as quiet as a mouse during her Victory party said anything but the fierce girl who had cut down several tributes during her Games.

This gave him an idea, one that is just dumb enough to work but not suspicious enough that the Capitol might be on to him. Ever since the second attempt at the rebellion, talking about the Victors before the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games were forbidden. Books and websites were confiscated and taken down, there's not enough records on them all. He'll just play dumb if people question him. Besides, he owns one of the most popular landmarks in the Capitol, him mysteriously disappearing would turn up more questions than the Capitol can handle.

If there are no records on the previous Victors then he'll need to find someone but right now, he just needed to figure where he can get information. Maybe he'll tour the districts and get information that way. He's sure he can do that, there's no law about Capitol citizens touring the districts. Besides, the next Hunger Games isn't going to start for another six months. He can take months at a time researching.

He just needed to find a person to look after the club whilst he's away.

* * *

 _ **Disclaimer! I do not own the Hunger Games and any of it's characters. All rights are reserved to the original author.**_

 **A/N - Welcome! This project has been a long time coming. I can tell you that this idea has been sitting in my head for a good three years now. So let me introduce Cade Valentine.**

 **Cade Valentine is the brother of Cyril Valentine (My current Master of Ceremonies); he's less eccentric and excitable as his brother but he now runs the club: Valentinos which he inherited from his father, Comus Valentine, who inherited it from _his_ father Caligula Valentine. Valentinos basically serves as the hub for Victors, it will appear more often in my Victory Stories than the President's mansion. The premise is set after the 80th Hunger Games, but most of the chapters would be about the year the Victor have won, or whatever wacky stuff I come up with. Hopefully, this will end somewhere around the 100th Hunger Games or it may go on forever. **

**I don't know what I'm going to do just yet but the first 3 Victors have already been written about, like two years ago, and the next two have been planned out.**

 **The reason why I'm doing this? Because I love making characters, I love reading Victor Stories, I love planning arenas and writing but I also want to develop my writing style. Some of these will be in third person and the others will be in first person. I also like how I have no obligations now, no one is submitting anything because everything here would be plucked out of my brain. I'm going to limit my author's notes so it looks clean-ish, it's going to be such a mess until I get a preferable format. I may remake some of these further down the line.**

 **So enjoy and send some suggestions if you want.**

 **~Alec**


	2. Leroy Ramnes

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentinos**_

* * *

 _It's been at least four months, I found a guy that could let me explore the districts, for a price. I went from district to district researching about the first decade of the Hunger Games. Turns out most of the Victors were egotistical maniacs, and that most hated the rebels. The first ten Hunger Games involved rebel leaders (captured rebel leaders) as the mentors. I also suspect that collusion was involved to have rebel children as some of the tributes._

 _The Hunger Games today has changed since then, more corrupt and less forgiving. Although the recent Hunger Games of today has been somewhat less forgiving also. Speaking of rebels and rebel haters, the first ever Victor of the Games has lost everything and everyone to the rebels._

 _I've learned from watching previous Games that people that have nothing to lose normally has the most to gain. I present you, Leroy Ramnes of District Two, the man who had lost everything._

* * *

The feeling of dread had always been there.

That familiar twisting pit within your stomach; more closely associated with that of butterflies now felt more like daggers. The crowds are cheering him on as he sits down on the white throne; a crown upon his head.

He shook the hands of the President earlier, congratulating him on his victory and with a very impressive drive. He didn't dare say a word, merely nodded his thanks and sat down. When the president was off the stage, the real celebration was to begin.

"Leroy Ramnes," the interviewer, Phineus Keenzest, said as he smiled his perfect teeth at the boy sitting down, "who is Leroy Ramnes?"

The man leaned towards him eager to receive any sort of information. The boy noticed the colour of his hair, a deep green in colour. His suit, tailor made, directly made from those of the oppressed District Eight, shine with a bright yellow. Leroy couldn't answer his question; all he did was shrug his shoulders and nonchalantly stayed quiet.

Now, he could tell that wasn't the right answer. He waves his hand and made up an excuse; about him being too modest for his own good. Not really, he just didn't want to share that much information. All he cared about was that he's alive and that he had managed to find some peace during his time in the arena.

He looked around once more at all the adoring faces. The promise of wealth and lifetime recognition more prominent than ever as he saw the brightly coloured crowds of the Capitol wave and cheer him on. Overwhelming for some, sure, but for him, it felt right. He had done something that he knew his parents and siblings would be proud off.

They sat in an egg-shaped stage, surrounded by the Capitolite crowds. He was surprised at how fast the Capitol recovered from the war, sure it's been nearly a year since then but the streets were pristine, the fashion had changed to more brightly coloured as if to cover whatever happened.

Phineus asked no more questions after the initial one and just waited for Leroy to soak in the victory. To finally see the night sky, polluted by all the lights no less but still there, and breathe in the air. He had been stuck in the medical centre after the first ever Hunger Games, with minimal injuries and he was not allowed to return back to Two until this whole interview and ceremony was finished so he had stayed a couple of days.

The doctors had found no such mental health instability from the boy and was quite shocked that he didn't feel any sort of post-traumatic stress disorder – the type of disorder that would somehow sneak its way in to most of the future Victors. What they found was the same person that went in the arena – in which future medical staff would find to be not always true.

"Now," the green haired man said finally breaking the boy's trance, "the very first Hunger Games has come and gone and with me is yourself, the very first Victor, it is truly exciting, don't you think folks?"

The roar of applause and cheers and shouts and screams filled the entire circle. Who would have thought that such an event where twenty-four children fought to the death with only one winner would be loved so much by these people?

Not him, although he understood the honour of winning the Games, the opportunity given upon him by the Capitol, but his district, Two, have not realised the importance of these events. That for him to be the Victor had put his very own district back into the good books of the Capitol, that maybe, just maybe, it would start to improve, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

"Leroy," the man continued, still with a smile on his face, for the cameras, "I think it's time to watch the recap of your time in the arena. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes." The brown-haired boy had said and both their eyes are casted towards the large projection as his entire time in the arena is back on display.

The shot opened with the tribute's rising from their podium. Leroy took note that everyone wore white jumpsuits, ones that would not stay white for most of them. He remembered his senses each coming to life at that point: the feeling of heat on his face; the familiar smell of anything burnt, like the bombs that had hit his very own district; the mist surrounding everyone as it began to clear to show remnants of bombed and ruined buildings. He noticed the big building standing in front of them; it reminded him of the pristine white Justice Building back in Two.

He was informed after his Games, by his mentor actually, that the arena was the former District Thirteen. The so called Twelve tributes seemed to confirm that during the actual Games. He remembered the girl from Twelve as she screamed hysterically voicing her denial as she tried to reach out to whatever she could but too afraid to do it.

He knew and they knew that the Capitol knew who they were. Francine Cole and her district partner: Baffin Iscariot were rebels or at least connected to rebels from the Dark Days. He knew their last names, as both were involved in his sister's death. They were from Thirteen, must have fled to the closest district to go into hiding after the failed rebellion but unfortunately for them, they couldn't avoid this, and his spear later.

The thirty second marked had come and suddenly most of the younger tributes that surrounded the pool of swords, spears and knives began to weep as the reality quietly seeps into their minds. The weapons were old, ancient; he was more used to holding a gun than seeing what they used to use from thousands of years ago.

"10…9…8…"

The countdown continues its beckoning call as Leroy looked from both his side. The girl from Twelve had stop crying from beside him. She had to be brave, after all, she seemed to glance at her district partner across from them closer to the Justice Building. The boy nodded his head as he focused on the weapons.

"…7…6…5…"

Alpina, his district partner, had a confident look on her face. Her father had given her enough advice, the very same person that casted Leroy aside; the very man that murdered his father during the rebellion for fighting on the 'wrong' side; the very same rebel that would be losing a daughter.

"4…3…2…"

The gong had stunned most of the children to silence and no one had dared moved from their podium, not even Leroy, except for Baffin. The mist had completely dissipated now showing the insignia of what was once district Thirteen. He watched as Baffin rushed past him with nothing but a sword and some knives following his district partner. Going back to where they once lived; back in Thirteen.

Everyone else stood in shock for a moment until Alpina dashes from her own podium picking up a silver sword. She looked at it with curiosity as she feels the weight. She then stared at the other tributes, as if taunting them to come to her.

Twenty-four children that had suffered through a war, rebel or not, they will never be prepared for what happened next. The rest of them begun to rush towards the middle as the grabbed some sort of weapon. Leroy picked up a spear and immediately stabs the girl from Three as she grovels for some weapons. The much older boy heard her scream until her lungs gave out and eventually her life.

No one dared stop as he spots the girl's district partner trying to run away. Leroy chased after him and not long before his body lay on the ground with the spear stuck to his back. He takes the sword that the boy had been carrying and heads straight for the Four kids that were huddled near one of the ruined businesses, too afraid to move out of the way.

In a way, he had done them a favour, he killed both. His sword, now bloody, dripped on to his jumpsuit. He looked around to see that Alpina had disposed of both the Five tributes.

The screaming had stopped. Most of the tributes have ran away from the start point. Blood and six bodies covered the ground. The bloodbath that occurred left only three people with a plethora of weapons.

The boy from Six ran towards him with some form of war cry but he was too weak; he could barely lift the sword he held in his hands. Leroy dispatched him quick as he plunged his blood covered sword into his stomach.

He left the boy as he screamed for his parents. The sound of him dying eventually faded until only him and Alpina is left. She was out of breath and so was he but she looked panicked as she backs away from him.

"Your father killed my father _and_ my mother," he said to her.

She didn't say anything, instead she tried to run but was tripped by the girl from Six. Her state of mind unhinged now from the horrors she had seen. She held a knife to Alpina's body but her weak feeble arms were quickly brushed away by the older girl. She apologised before stabbing the girl in the neck with a knife.

"This is _my_ retribution. This is _my_ justice."

Leroy had caught up with her, she hadn't had time to escape the boy that had lost everything. His sword plunged down at her stomach; then her chest; then her head before stopping himself. He looked away from the body when he heard the Capitol anthem.

He watched various faces projected at the ruined Justice Building, the faces of the dead as he saw Alpina's and ended with the girl from Six, the one she had killed. He counts nine tributes all together. He drops the sword beside the fallen bodies in favour of the spear as he leaves the start point.

The shots continued to show the other tributes. Leroy saw alternative viewpoints, ones he had not seen when he was in the arena. How the Eight tributes had separated after they had grabbed the weapons; how the Seven tributes stuck together. He watched them both as they approach the girl from One.

At the same time, that's when Leroy would have shown up as he tried to traverse the fallen ruins of Thirteen he stumbled across the One girl being strangled to death by the Seven boy. The rage and animosity on the boy's face showed it all from different angles. She eventually succumbed to death and he didn't notice Leroy until the spearhead pierces through the front of his chest.

He struggled trying to get the spear out of his body that he didn't recognise the now dead boy's district partner jump from one of the buildings. She held with her a knife, tears streamed down her face; screaming at him, informing him that the Seven boy was her brother.

He didn't care at the time as her knife cuts his arms, shallow wound but it stung. He tried to stab with the spear but she was too agile. Leroy instead dropped his spear and chased after her. She was fast but the unfamiliar small landscape got her lost as she ends up trapped in a dead end.

She tried to scramble away but her little figure was not enough to even boost her up the walls. Her screaming didn't stop, not until his strong hands wrapped around her neck. The strained voice pleading, tears drenching his hands.

As her body goes limp and her breathing stopped, he lets go and the dead girl's body collapsed to the same burnt ground and rubble. The Capitol anthem sounded again but he didn't see any of the faces.

He spent the rest of the time wandering the small district Thirteen, or what was left of it. He had found out that the tributes from Nine and the boy from Eleven had died as he walked past the Justice Building again. The boy had killed the Nine girl and as retaliation, the boy from Nine killed the Eleven boy who was then ambushed by the Eight boy. He picked up another spear. The bodies of the dead still litter the town square.

This is the part that Leroy had paid attention to the most. He leaned forwards as he remembered the event, he saw the girl from Twelve or rather heard rocks tumble and immediately focused on the direction. He remembered the scared look she had as she begun to run away from him. He ran after her, following the sounds she made with her shoes as she passed by ruined shops and craters on the road. She dared not looked back at the monster covered in blood that is right behind her.

The moment was still fresh, he felt his hands tingle as they wrap around her neck, when he finally caught her. He didn't say anything but he felt the neck snap and that's when he let go of her. That was it; she had died.

At that point he saw from the recaps that the boy from Twelve had been watching him from a distance. He too had the same puffy red eye the girl had. He moved closer to Leroy, knife in hand as he plunged it on his shoulder.

The only real injury he had sustained in the Games was that moment but being the stronger more muscular person that Leroy was, he didn't care. He just turned and used that rage he felt from being stabbed and turned it into power as he punched the boy in the face. He didn't stop there as he tackled Baffin on the burn ground, the knife still lodged into the shoulder. He repeatedly punched the boy non-stop until his face was unrecognisable; until he was dead.

Leroy had sat back on his seat on the egg-shaped stage, satisfied with his revenge. He had avenged his sister and he knew that she would be proud of him. She was only twelve when she died and what those two did were despicable.

He continued to watch the recap; how the tributes from Ten had died, by the hands of the girl from Eleven, Lucrene Ames formerly from Nine and he assumed that she and her traitorous rebel family had fled to Eleven. The Eight girl was eventually killed by her very own district partner, Asher Husk from Seven originally but now in Eight, also a rebel.

Then it was down to the final three. He looked at the timer that was situated beside the projection. The last summary of the tributes showing the Ten and Twelve tributes as well as the girl from Eight signified the fifty-minute mark of the Games.

He sat forward from his seat again as he anticipated what was going to be happening. It was Ramnes versus Ames versus Husk as the three tributes meet up at the start point. Weapons still laid bare on the ruined ground amongst all the dead bodies of the tributes.

He remembered the look of disgust the other two gave him when they approached. Leroy took a mental note at how hypocritical they were. Lucrene Ames was responsible for finding and informing his parent's whereabouts; both his parents were great Peacekeepers and his father even attained a rank of Captain. They had gone into hiding as they awaited reinforcements, what they didn't know was that the girl that called in the reinforcement was the traitor.

Asher Husk, however, was different. He was part of the rebels, that much he knew, but he was so much more. So much more sadistic, he could still hear his laugh even as he sat beside Phineus. He was horrified during the Dark Days to see his brother be hanged, as he was stopped by his father after he told Leroy that there was nothing he could have done.

The screen fades to black and dramatic music blared. The dramatization of the last battle had begun. Leroy had charged towards Asher first, thinking that his life didn't need to continue past this point. His spear was by his side, raised and ready to stab but he was blocked by Lucrene's silver, blood stained sword. He growled at her, the music going along with Leroy's thoughts.

He wanted to end Asher's life first but the girl left him no choice. He stopped and kicked the girl in the stomach. He towered over her as she tried her best to clutch her hurting stomach. Leroy didn't care at that point and plunged the spear through her hand and into her stomach.

He left the spear right into her stomach as he faced the boy, weapon-less. He heard the crowd gasp at that, as if this was the first time they were seeing it. Asher gave the boy a smirk as he talked about remembering him. He talked in detail what he did to his brother's body afterwards, how he cut him up, turned him into some sort of display.

Leroy composed himself. He couldn't give into his taunt but he could remember how livid he was. He didn't notice his clenched fist but Phineus could as he kept glancing at the Victor. He returned his eyes on the screen to see that Leroy had narrowly dodged a knife being thrown at him.

Asher had begun to charge towards Leroy a hatchet in his hand. Without any weapons, the boy had rolled out of the way, further hurting the stab wound from his shoulders that he poorly patched up after the encounter with the Twelves. The Eight boy had turned almost instantly and delivered a swift kick to his back.

The Two boy had tried to stand up only to be kicked to the ground once more. That's when he saw a silver knife lying beside the body of Lucrene. He picked it up, not knowing if the boy behind him that was laughing had noticed or not. He turned away from the falling hatchet and managed to stand up with a bit of pain.

He could see the smug face from the rebel boy as he walks towards him calmly. For the hour they had been in Thirteen, the boy seemed relatively unharmed. His white jumpsuit is similarly stained with red, like his, and his lighter brown hair just seemed a bit dirtier.

What Leroy did next was either stupid or genius because he had thrown his knife towards the boy, who effortlessly dodged it. However, that was not Leroy's intentions at all as he tackled the boy to the ground during that second he got distracted.

They roll around on the solid ground as they exchanged punches to each other's faces. Leroy instinctively put his hands to his face, feeling where he had been punched the most but finding that it had disappeared thanks to the medical service he had received.

The two continued to punch and roll on the ground all this time Leroy was spouting things about his older brother. How he looked up to him; how he was going to be a great Peacekeeper but the boy didn't care, not in the slightest as he laughs and spurs him on.

It had ended when Leroy had finally grabbed the sides of his head. He repeatedly bashed the boy's head to the ground, he didn't care that blood had spilled out from the cavities and just making a splashing sound.

He continued to do even as trumpets blared in the background. He only stopped when he saw Peacekeepers approach him with their weapons raised. The screen then goes black as the Games end. It lasted a total of one hour and thirty-five minutes.

As soon as it had finished the crowd exploded with cheers once again as they begun to chant Leroy's name with adoration. Phineus stood up and the boy joined him, he bowed his head and then his right hand raised to the sky.

Leroy Ramnes of District Two had achieved the impossible by becoming the first ever Victor. The boy that had lost everything because of the rebellion; friends and families. The only remaining Ramnes in Panem, now with nothing to lose had gained more than wealth but adoration and respect of not only the Capitol but for his district as well.


	3. Balas Beacon

The prison cell is old and crumbling yet still strong enough to keep him in. The bars from floor to ceiling covered in rust and the drip from the corner is the only sound he liked. The constant shouting of other prisoners tends to drown it out though but during the night when everyone else is asleep, its soothing and calming.

It's been six months; he knew that at least. He remembered being congratulated by the Capitolites the minute Leroy Ramnes' hands snaked their way around the boy from Seven's neck. Although at that point it's all been a daze as only an hour earlier he had to say goodbye to his only daughter because of the very same tribute that won.

Valum Vorenus had asked, pleaded even, to go back into the prison. An odd request surely from other minor rebels that housed the prison cells beside him. He was never completely free after he and Leroy had returned to Two. The boy that murdered children was celebrated as a hero having won the whole district nutritional safety for an entire year; the starving outer villages are being fed and for that they were grateful.

The broken man scoffed as he sat on the opposite side from where the dripping occurs. The minute he returned home, he found that he was alone. Alpina, his daughter, was dead; his wife nowhere to be seen along with his two boys.

What else was there for this man?

The only solace he had was back in his cell, back to where the constant drip of the ceiling kept him company. He would rather spend the rest of his days in the cell he was placed in. Leroy had made it very clear that he disliked Valum and what he stood for; a rebel, the very same one that had murdered the Victor's father and mother, so it was a surprise to see the very same boy stand in front of his cell.

The boy wore expensive clothing; the grey suit jacket and trousers exudes the wealth he had gained from the blood of twenty-three children. The smug look on his face told him well enough that he was up to something, he didn't want to know but who was he to disobey? This boy had technically saved him from lifetime imprisonment but at what cost?

"I'll strike you a deal old man." He smiled, dark blue eyes glinting with malice.

"I don't want your deal, let me be in this cell to rot for all eternity."

"I'm sure you're going to like this one," he said matter-of-factly, "the whereabouts of your two sons as well as your wife."

Valum looked up quickly. He scanned the boy for any form of lie but found none as he approached from his corner towards the boy that was standing there with his arms folded across his chest. The older man gripped the rusted bars tightly.

"Tell. Me."

"Like I said; I'll strike you a deal."

Valum considered it, there had to be a trick to this. He knew how much Leroy hated his family, and all rebels as a matter of fact. The boy in front of him seemed to be genuinely telling the truth as he continued to stare the older man down.

"Fine." Valum had finally said through gritted teeth.

"My Victory Tour ended, that means there's only five or six months left until the next Hunger Games begin."

"What's your point?" He asked wanting to hurry up the boy.

"I want you to come with me during this time."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, Valum, you're a smart man, it doesn't take too long for someone to connect the dots on what I want you to do here."

"You want me to mentor again? My job was to bring home a tribute and I did just that."

"But you and I both know that you wanted your daughter home and I'm willing to let that go." Leroy said as he leaned closer to the older man, the same smile on his face not fading. "Besides, I know where the rest of your family are, hence back to the deal."

Valum suddenly caught on, he glared at the boy in front of him. There were so many words he would like to say to him, but he didn't want to upset the boy any more than he seemed. There is a chance that his wife and sons are alive after all; no matter how small that maybe be.

"So, you want me to bring another home in exchange for where my family is?"

"I thought we would have to be here all day with how slow you connected the dots, maybe you are getting old."

Leroy laughed out loud. He opened the cell door and gestured for Valum to come out. The older man hesitated before stepping out on the white concrete floors. He could see that most of the prisoners were watching the exchange, some gave him looks of pity and others with utter disdain; to them the act of children killing other children did not sit right but who were they to judge?

"Where are you taking me?"

"To get you cleaned up and attend the banquet in my honour of course."

* * *

There were rules in place for rebel 'mentors'; they were tasked in with training tributes until they can produce a Victor; they would then replace them, and they are free to go. Valum still could not believe he was back to watching twenty-four children kill each other; all because he was told, by Leroy, who now sat beside him with excitement in his eyes, that he knew where his wife and sons are. He didn't even know if he was lying or not but that small of a chance was enough for him to come back.

Now he was unsure if he was ever going to see them again now. The fact that this year's arena was strange, a lot smaller than the ruins of Thirteen and a lot more visible, made him nervous that his tributes would stand no chance against the others. This year the Capitol had decided to stage The Hunger Games in a smaller area just out past the City Circle. He saw the empty arena, covered in a thin layer of sand. Knives are strewn about everywhere.

The Games hadn't started yet, that was not due for another hour but the seats surrounding the circular arena are being filled up slowly by highly paid Capitolites. Their extravagant dresses and suits, coloured in a garish colour. It disgusts him to no end that these people live in luxury when there are people in his very own district struggling to make ends meet.

There's a designated seating space for the president; it was obvious as it held a throne for two, presumably for his wife, and several smaller seats. Two avox stand at either side of the thrones, holding silver platters of food and drink.

The sound of the anthem alerted everyone towards the throne, everyone began to applaud seeing President Laomedes Augustus enter with his wife, Hera. Their children follow suit, all probably the same age as Leroy and all just as bloodthirsty.

"Thank you, thank you," the man said as he gestured for everyone to sit, "today marks the Second Hunger Games, and what an honour it is to be held right here in the very spot where the suffering had ended; where we have finally put an end to the suffering of everyone and planted the seed of a better tomorrow. Not to mention all the arduous work that had been put into making this arena, we as a nation, thank the districts of Panem for their help in recreating this arena, an inspiration suggested by my beautiful wife beside me, not an arena but a colosseum."

Valum knew that whatever this man spouted is just a ploy. The man clearly knew how to work a crowd but as he stood there with his speech, praising only the Capitolites, who enjoy the lavishness the other Twelve districts provide, made his blood boil.

"Of course, I welcome our esteemed guests," he pointed towards us, to Leroy, and we are met with thousands of eyes and applause. "Our mentors _and_ Victor sitting there, ready to watch the fruits of their labour. May I wish them luck in whomever wins today, and may the odds be ever in their favour."

With that, everyone's eyes are trained now in the center as the tributes are slowly raised onto the cheering crowd. Valum immediately scanned for his tributes, they had chatted briefly on the train ride over two days ago, and they continued to plan strategies of what was to come.

Although now all his talk about hiding and waiting are disregarded when he saw where they would be fighting. He held his breath as the countdown began, the girl; Camilla had begun to cry once more and the boy, Atticus, watched the crowds clearly distracted by their loudness.

He looked out for the other tributes; well the one worth noting. Percy Gellis, mentor of One and the last known living rebel of his district, had been confident in one of his tributes; Balas Beacon and he even believed him; not quite as muscular as Leroy, the boy had obvious strength. He believed in both Atticus and Camilla, he had to if he was to ever see his family again but after he saw Balas his faith wavered.

"Balas will set me free," Percy whispered to him, "I can finally be rid of my wretched prison cell."

I ignored the man as the countdown reached its end and a gong signified the start of the Second Hunger Games. The crowed continued their cacophony of cheers but the tributes had not moved, most were already on their knees as they wept for their families.

Then the boy from Seven darted towards the center and grabbed himself a knife. He ran away from the circle of hesitant tributes and tried, although failed, to hide himself. There was no hiding in this type of arena; there was no escaping it either. The walls are built high enough and it's smoothed out that no one can ever climb out.

The other tributes had remained still, he whispered to himself; tried to will Atticus on, to try and grab Camilla and go with the other plans that they had discussed only days ago. Then Atticus made a mad dash for one of the knives on the ground.

"Come on boy, just do it." He said to himself. "Make that first kill."

Atticus had headed straight for the girl from Ten, she had been on the ground after the countdown had started. She looked up and screamed but that was cut short when the knife buried itself in her head.

The gunshot shocked everyone, even the other mentors. He heard the mentor from Ten as he cursed both him and Leroy, he too was as desperate as Percy. No one wanted this but they, unlike him, had no choice.

Then everything was drowned out again by the loud cheering from the crowds. Atticus' first kill had triggered the bloodbath that ensued. Naturally the tribute boy from Ten was in shock and retaliated as he tried to kill Atticus, but the boy was saved by Camilla, who had finally awakened from her tears.

Then Balas came into view; the crowd loved him. His dazzling blonde hair and his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. Their outfits, like that of last year's Games were now either covered in dirt or blood or both as they scrambled for weapons to defend themselves.

The bloodbath had been successful in ridding what Percy beside Valum had called 'fodder'. The word made him shudder as he thought about his own daughter, was she fodder for dying early too? He didn't have time to think about it some more, but he knew his daughter was not that. It has only been half an hour since the Games had started and only ten tributes remained.

Balas and his district partner, Lala, are still alive as they huddle towards one side of the arena. Atticus and Camilla were the same although, Camilla now shook where she was standing. Atticus tried his best to console her, but he can tell that she had been shaken at the fact that she had killed someone. Though between her and Atticus, they have two kills. Balas and his district partner only had one; the kill belonging to Balas as he got rid of the girl from Eleven who was foolish enough to attack the boy when she did not have a weapon herself; this earned her a knife to the stomach.

Both tributes from Four had situated themselves closer to where the President sat, both trying to catch their breaths, they managed to get rid of most of the tributes. Their clothes now covered in blood. Between them they managed four kills. Not as impressive as the boys from Nine and Eleven as they decided to work together and managed to get five kills.

Then there was the Seven boy still where he went to at the start of the Games. He held a knife with one hand as he watched the events unfold.

The boy from Eight was the last one that remained alive past the initial bloodbath, he had managed to kill two tributes and he was exhausted. He sat back against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't notice the Nine and Eleven boys sneak up to either side of him.

Valum heard the Eight mentor as she screamed the boy's name; she tried her best to get his attention but ultimately failed as her voice was drowned out by the crowd and the boy now slumped to one side as several knife wounds leak out fresh blood.

He had been distracted by the Eight boy's death that he didn't hear the other gunshot to the sky. Leroy looked at him with a smirk. Then he looked at where everyone's attention seemed to have been drawn to.

He felt a myriad of emotions; first anger; anger at the fact that Atticus had been so foolish enough to not watch his sides, then a feeling of remorse; not because Atticus had died, but because he believed more in Atticus' victory than that of Camilla.

The pair from Four left behind Atticus' body as they move towards Camilla. Valum only hoped that the girl had some sense to run away, just run somewhere else safer. Then he breathed a sigh of relief as Balas had jumped from behind the pair and stabbed the boy then the girl behind. Another two gunshots echoed the colosseum.

"Come on Balas." Percy is on the edge of his seat as he said it.

Another gunshot but this time it was from the other side of the arena. The boy from Seven had just been killed by the Nine and Eleven boy. The two were unstoppable as they left the boy and begun their way to Camilla.

"Derreck Jessup," Leroy said. "Son of a famed rebel back in Seven, didn't know any Jessup but he got what was coming to him."

The offhanded comment was ignored by the older man as he watched Camilla outrun the tributes from Nine and Eleven. She is only stopped by Lala who stood still, she was weapon-less and Camilla immediately, without even so much as a thought, plunge the knife she held in her hand into the blond girl's stomach.

The gunshot sounded after the girl had collapsed to the ground. She tried to grab another knife but was interrupted by Balas, who had tried to get back to Lala in time but was too late. He was angry, and he slashed at her stomach before he gripped Camilla's dark brown hair.

"Looks like you won't be seeing your family after all." Leroy shrugged as they watched Camilla's neck spout with blood.

The rest of the Games had been a blur after that. Leroy hadn't said anything else, even if he did, he doubted it had registered in his brain. He had just lost the smallest sliver of hope he had. He only remembered the trumpets as they sounded to signify the Victor of the Second Hunger Games.

He did not pay attention to it, but he had noted that the man beside him had been very happy.


	4. Adlay Durum

The Rebellion of the Districts of Panem had wrought nothing but anguish and famine to the entire nation. People were starving, poor and dying. That is until the last moments of the war where the Capitol had managed to subdue the traitorous District Thirteen and ending the rebellion once and for all.

The Capitol rejoiced. They had won, they had emerged victorious. However, the divide within the Capitol is immense, the poor continued to stay poor and the rich became richer. This affected a lot of the Capitol citizens, more than what they had hoped for. It's not obvious from the eyes of the District but it is obvious if you lived in Downtown Capitol.

This is where Caligula Valentine begins his story. One that is both successful and, in his own words, his 'personal Hunger Games'. Caligula was a man that had lost everything, much like Leroy Ramnes, the very first victor, but he had never given up on what the Capitol can offer someone like him.

Born to socialites but excommunicated after joining the army to fight in the Rebellion, the prideful man had landed himself on the poverty line within the Capitol. His home, or rather apartment was shoddy and disgusting but he never gave up. The man gussies himself up; ate his last decent meal he could find and exited his home, his head held high.

He lands himself in front of the National Bank of Panem; where people have tried and failed to become success stories. Countless people come here in hopes of borrowing money from an already drained Capitol but nevertheless they try, and few make it.

Everyone in the wealthiest part of the Capitol is still celebrating what would become an annual event. The pictures and screens show Leroy Ramnes; the boy that had faced against the odds and achieved instant wealth against twenty-three other adversities in The Hunger Games.

That's what he was aiming for. He wasn't going to kill, he's not that person anymore, but he wants that instant wealth. He lands himself in front of the National Bank of Panem; where people have tried and failed to become success stories. Countless people come here in hopes of borrowing money from an already drained Capitol but nevertheless they try, and few make it; with his suit straightened and crisp, brown hair slicked back and green eyes full of confidence, he approached one of the teller and asked flat out for a loan.

Ever since that day he's had instant success.

Valentino's opened in the depths of Downtown Capitol. The dinghy bar was tucked in between two apartments. Initially a bar for the downtrodden, Caligula had taken the initiative whenever he could. His charisma and machismo had never let him down before. He had grandiose ideas and even crazier plans.

Rumours had it that Caligula had managed to get Leroy Ramnes to endorse the bar which eventually turned into a club. The rumours turned into truth as, true enough, the very Victor appeared in the front papers of the Capitol after his Victory Tour in the Capitol had ended. The handsome and fierce looking Two boy had partied all night.

Celebrities from all walks of life came in their hundreds to this new 'it' place, the mysterious club had become infamous. It became the place where everyone and anyone that was even remotely popular ended up; actors and actresses; designers; news anchors; everyone. It was, without a doubt, the most infamous club of all of Capitol.

The following year, Balas Beacon was welcomed into the fray, and he endorsed Valentino's and that just skyrocketed the club higher into the stratosphere. Caligula had accumulated enough wealth to even buy the two apartments it was sandwiched between and eventually merged into a bigger club in hopes of hosting larger scale parties. Caligula had hosted parties of every kind here, but none could ever top a Victor Party.

Victor Parties were always the talked about for months, even months leading up to the new season of Hunger Games to start and by then people would be excited about what kind of party it was going to be. Caligula had the people of Capitol hooked into his club. He looked out for them just like they looked out for him during the Rebellion.

And now as he approached the newest Victor: Adlay Durum of District Nine, the boy was the youngest of the now growing pool of Victors. At the age of just fifteen, he would become the youngest Victor in a long time.

Caligula liked him, he was an underdog that had managed to level his number of kills with that of Balas Beacon, who is two years his senior and seemed to be more competent than the young boy from Nine. He watched him from the corner of the bar. His mentor, the rebel Van Hanssen, whispered something to his ear before leaving the club.

"It's not an inconvenient time, is it?" Caligula tested the waters as he approached the boy, his light brown hair had been combed neatly and his light brown eyes, he could tell was already adjusting to the dimly lit club.

"No, I'm ready to party." The boy surprised the older man as he shook Caligula's hand. "It's a pleasure to be here Mr. Valentine."

"Polite and handsome, Caligula is fine and no, it is all my pleasure that you have come here Mr. Durum."

He had let go of the boy's hand and began to guide him towards the middle of the club where the bar was situated. The club goers all squandered and patted them both on the back. They focused more on Adlay, of course, but that's because this was his party.

"May I compliment you on the way you had handled the last battle?" Caligula said with a sincere smile as he watched the boy get into the music by the bar, he had waved one of the tenders to get them both drinks. "Such superb skill!"

"I wasn't as good as my partner." The boy looked away as he remembered her briefly but then took the wheat coloured drink, tasted it first before downing the whole thing in one go.

"Polite, skilled, handsome and now humble too!" Caligula proclaimed as he takes the boy to his side and pointed at everyone that has attended the party, _his_ party. "There are celebrities here, models and politicians too; I suggest you go and mingle, who knows? They may all become useful to you in the coming years."

The boy nodded, and he took this blueish drink in an extravagant looking glass from the counter. He looked back once at Caligula and he just smiled at him, like a father that was proud of him.

"If you ever need me, or you find if a little too much, come and seek me and I will lead you somewhere quieter."

With that, Caligula left to go and greet all his esteemed guests. Adlay drank some of the blue liquid and made a disgusted face before the flavour changed to sweet undertones. It wasn't so bad once the initial shock has passed. He went about his business, herded by high ranking politicians of all kinds as well as models willing to spend the night with the boy despite the obvious gap in age.

The screens around the club had been showing the replays of the Games non-stop. It was in his honour. The one that is currently on display is that of the final four between the Elevens and the Nines. The arena had been the same as that of Balas' but instead of knives, sickles and scythes had been the weapons. Those who were foolish took on the longer scythes and by the time they had time to lift it they were dead. Adlay and his partner were good with the weapons, unsurprising due to their district and the Elevens were a surprise too. The third iteration of the Hunger Games had brought both the shock factor and unpredictability up a notch and had gone done very well in the Capitol.

Ultimately, after both Elevens had trapped Adlay's district parent and subsequently decapitated her, which had gotten a huge applause from the crowd within the arena, it was down to them and Adlay. His tactic was to go after the boy first, as he was stronger. The two had fought longer than he wanted but he had managed to dodge a crucial attack that left the boy open and he had sliced open his stomach. He went after the girl next and he was right, she didn't put up much of a fight without her district partner there to protect her.

The people that were beside him had clapped, clearly, they enjoyed that battle, as did the rest of the Capitol. The Games too were shorter than ever, but it made the crowd excited. He was thanked for the victory as he left for another drink.

He was getting into the party very well now, his mind beginning to be in a daze. He had kissed several people in the last two hours alone and after a brief bathroom break, with some older model, he felt sober enough to look at himself in the mirror. Suddenly, his heart began beating extremely fast, his breath hitched before he started to take deep breaths, seemingly unable to get any oxygen into his body. It eventually stopped, and he made his way to the bar again and drank himself silly and started to go on a high again.

He had sought after Caligula. It had been two hours later, he suffered from yet another panic attack. Caligula found him in the bathroom, tucked into one of the stalls and he had led the boy upstairs, past the VIP lounge. He tried to hide him away from prying eyes and lucky for the older man, the lights were dimly lit, and the music blared loud enough for him to justify ignoring people calling after him.

He opened the door, once they made it upstairs, to a room that was exclusive even for the high-ranking politicians, a sort of secret bar on the very top of the club. Inside, Leroy and Balas sat talking to one another.

"What's wrong? Did he kill anyone?" Leroy stood fast, dropping the whiskey on the off-white carpeted floors and immediately placed himself in front of Caligula, his blue eyes seemed to fill with more worry than what Caligula thought was possible for the man that had killed twelve children.

"Watch my carpet, will you?!" Caligula exclaimed, still holding onto Adlay to his side with both arms. He made a mental note to replace the whole room to a darker shade of colour, he was fed up of the boy staining it every time he was here. "And no, just a panic attack."

He had sat the boy down on one of the lavish white sofa. He asked the bartender, who had no idea what was happening, for a glass of water and he returned fast. He handed it to the boy that was breathing faster than ever, he told him to drink and he seemed to choke on the first gulp but after a second time he remains stable.

"Better?" The boy nodded his head as he steadied his breathing. "It's just a panic attack, nothing to worry about."

"We get them all the time." Balas said from behind Leroy and the taller, and stronger looking, boy turned around.

"Speak for yourself." He said, and Caligula could tell, without looking, that the other was rolling his eyes.

It's not a secret that the two had developed a sort of rivalry. That's not to say that they don't take their jobs as mentors seriously, far from it, but there are times where Leroy's urge to gamble will take over or Balas' mouth would run off and the two would begin to argue. He had hoped that Adlay would fit right in with these two older boys.

"Whatever, just go be a dear and grab our newest Victor more water."

"I'm alright," Adlay spoke up as he sat upright; he looked at everyone's face. "I'm alright now."

Caligula looked unsure by Adlay just gave him a smile to say that he was indeed fine now. It didn't reassure the man any more than he thought the boy did. He stood up beside Leroy and he nudged him to sort of urge him to say something, he looked at him and he just sighed.

"Look, kid, a bit of advice? Take it easy." Leroy eventually said as he handed the boy another glass of water. "Stay here for a couple of hours or something, and then go back down. Caligula can handle the guests whilst you're away."

"I hear you loud and clear, but I would much rather go back down."

The two Victors and Caligula watched as the Nine boy fixed his suit then stood up and walked away from them and out the door. The muffled bustling of the party downstairs can be heard now that the whole room went silent. Leroy just shook his head and Balas was about to say something but for the first time he held his tongue.

For better or for worse, they all thought that Adlay Durum would become a handful in the coming years. For the first time in his life, Caligula had wondered if it was a clever idea to have opened this club or not.


	5. Drusus Ramnes

_**The First Hunger Games**_

* * *

The sky seemed brighter, the crowds happier and ever since he could remember the atmosphere felt less cold and dreary. The streets are filled with festivities, streamers and banners line up ever terraced house of the district centre. The cobblestone road is filled to the brim with leftover confetti that he was sure that it would take weeks to clear. For the first time he could even remember, the district was happy.

However, Drusus was not happy. He hasn't been happy in a long time. He may have disguised it as just tiredness but that was never how he truly felt. His brother had just died before the festivities have begun; his mother is lost somewhere. His own village is in disarray.

He wanted to make a difference to his own village, this celebration for what was to become a yearly thing had irked everyone on the outskirts of Two. They didn't know how to feel about it, the tribute that went into the Hunger Games had been sadistic, or so they were told.

"You don't have to do this," Dale Feldspar, his one and only friend stands beside him. "Let's just go back to the village."

"No, I have to do this." He said back to him and then turned. " _You_ need to go back, you still have family to look after."

His friend, who had been there since he could remember frowned but only nodded. It was true, he did have a sickly little sister to look after and his other brothers too are always hungry as they grew older. Drusus knew of the state in the villages and he could no longer stand for such injustice.

"Well…" Dale started and look upwards to see confetti begin to fall again, he seemed distracted for a moment but stared at his friend once more. "Come back soon. Please?"

"You know I will." He replied, and he gave the boy a long hug before he disappeared within the crowds.

He didn't know where the newly built Victors Village were, but he knew it wasn't that far from the district center. He had asked around and only half of the people he had asked had taken him seriously, the other half scoffed at him, looked at his ragged clothes and slightly thin frame and dismissed him as one of those street urchins.

It took him all but two hours and finally he landed at the entrance the village. He didn't recognise it at first, but two rows of empty houses seemed to line up from either side of the entrance. A giant fountain roughly in the middle of the village.

Finding Leroy's home was not that hard. The lights were all on in the only occupied house, it's quieter here than the district. It's almost serene in a way, but as he got closer to the house he could hear talking and the general bustling. He hesitated before knocking on the door, a pristine brown looking door.

The door opened to show Leroy, halfway between undressed and annoyed. He looked everywhere before he looked at the brown-haired boy that looked straight up at him, with a fierce determination on his face. He had a smug smile on his face.

"What do you want? Begging for scraps? I may have done it that one time, but I can't keep doing this to street urchins."

"I'm not a street urchin." He answered back fast that almost surprised the taller boy. "I'm here because I want you to train me."

"Train you?"

"Yeah, for the Hunger Games."

The burst of laughter erupted from his mouth as he closed the door. Drusus could still here the laughter faintly through the door, but he waited at his doorstep for a good hour before trying again. This time, Leroy was all dressed as if he was about to leave.

"Look, kid…" He starts awkwardly as he locked the door to his home. "I'm going away for two weeks, why don't you go home?"

"I'm not going anywhere until you take me seriously." He said, this time accompanied by a glare.

"Suit yourself." He said with a shrug and left the village.

He waited the whole two weeks, Dale visited a couple of times to give him some food and water, but he never strayed too long. He was grateful for his best friend, but he couldn't help but feel the guilt that built up inside him whenever he saw Dale.

Much like himself, Dale had lost both his parents, they were just casualties of war. Drusus' parents were part of the war but still, his father was the Valum Vorenus, sole living rebel of Two. It seemed that Leroy did not know that considering most of his targets in the Games were rebels.

It felt like it was a long time ago, but it's only been six months since then. The last he saw of his father was during the reaping, this was the last time he saw his sister too. His brother was old enough to not be included in the Games, but he had died just days after the Victor was crowned; a freak mining accident that killed twenty people in his village.

He was left alone after that, Dale had taken him in and he too worked in the mines. He helped around the house and took care of his little sister Lyre. In that while he appreciated his life more. It all changed when Lyre became sick once more, she made a full recovery but at just two she could have died. That's when he decided that enough was enough.

"You're still here?"

He looked up from his drawn knees. Leroy stood there, his blue eyes seemed to bore holes through him, his cheeks were flushed that signified that he was slightly drunk. He watched him stumble a little, maybe a lot more drunk. He walked up the stairs and unlocked his door, he goes in and never comes out, not for a couple of hours anyway.

The night sky appeared again and once more, Drusus slept outside the brown-haired victor's home. He missed Dale and the rest of his family, but he knew that he needed to do this, for them. He had no one to fight for anymore so he would do it for them.

"Here."

He got up quickly, surprised that Leroy had been standing by the door, he had a blanket and a water bottle. The boy hesitated a bit before he took the items. He gulped down the water and wrapped the blanket above his shoulders. He watched as the older boy sat beside him as they both look forwards.

"You're determined, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," He replied, and Leroy chuckled.

"I'm not saying it's a good idea but say I do train you, how do you make sure you're going to get picked?"

"I volunteer."

"You'll what?"

"Volunteer?" Now he seemed unsure. Leroy's guffaw seemed to confirm that it was a stupid idea.

"I've not heard of that one before, then again there's only been one Games so far. How old are you?"

"I'm fifteen this year," he said. "I had it all planned out."

"Oh yeah?" Leroy replied eyebrows raised. He didn't want to admit it at first, but he was slightly impressed by the boy in front of him.

He was reminiscent of his older brother, before the rebels got him, head strong and fierce with just a little hint of caring, or at least he thinks that about him. For all he knows he was just using him to get popularity, so he didn't starve himself. The boy in front of him isn't thin, he had a bit of muscle that suggested he came from the mining villages.

"Alright." He said standing up.

"Alright what?" Drusus replied.

"Alright, I'll train you, I'll be your mentor."

"Really?!" He stood up too, the blanket pooling at his feet. "You're not just joking with me, are you?"

"I'm serious." Leroy chuckled once more. "Come inside…uh what's your name?"

"Drusus."

"Well come inside Drusus, we have six months before I'm whisked away into the Hunger Games. We have lots to do before then."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

 _ **The Second Hunger Games**_

* * *

The training was intense.

He was out of breath already but so far so good, he had been lasting longer than he was the first couple of weeks. They were using sticks as weapon and they fought non-stop. There were moments where Drusus had nearly wanted to give up but then Leroy would rile him up and they go back to clashing their weapons. So far, he had not beaten the older boy. It helped him strive to become better or out do the man whenever he volunteers in the next couple of years.

He panted as he leaned against the basement wall. He looked up at the boy, he smirked at the smug face Leroy was wearing. The older boy tapped him with his wooden weapon before dropping it on the floor.

"With that…" He said as he approached the stairs. "…you're dead, for the fiftieth time today."

"Where are you going?" Drusus asked as he chased after the older boy.

"It's the Hunger Games, the reaping? It's today. Go get dressed I needed to be there five minutes ago."

There were a lot of sad and forlorn faces as the mayor read out loud the Treaty of Treason. The fresh memory of war cuts deep to most of the citizens, even for the mayor. He let out a sigh as he dips his hand into a ballot and pulls out a name from one and then the other. He read them out loud for everyone to hear, the tributes this year looked unremarkable.

Both were around the same age as him, he noticed the boy leaving the same section they were herded into a couple of hours ago. The girl was slightly older, but only by a year. They both hesitated but Peacekeepers, from the Capitol, grabbed hold of them. They gave little resistance but eventually they succumbed to their fate.

The entire square was silent.

"These are our tributes for the second Hunger Games."

The mayor looked defeated as he avoided the looks the boy and the girl gave him. He walked away from them and with that, they were both taken inside the Justice Building. Leroy spotted me in the dispersing crowd and waved me over.

"Here's the key," he told the boy. "Go back home and practice, you're going to need it."

He does what he was told and headed straight back to the victor's home. He didn't even stop to greet Dale and his siblings. He was focused on trying to be better than his future mentor.

There were a few moments where the television within the house would turn on and Drusus could not help but watch what little updates were being told by the Capitol. They didn't really hear much about the first ever one but this one seemed more televised.

He saw crowds of people as they attempt to swarm the tributes leaving the train station. He noticed the fear in each of the tributes as they are squished between two guards. The tributes were precious cargo after all. He watched it all before it shut out again.

He would not be watching the television again until the actual Games.

When the day of the Games did come, two days later, Dale had come to visit. He wasn't supposed to have visitors but what Leroy doesn't know won't hurt him; besides there are worse secrets he was keeping from the boy.

"Is that your father?" Dale pointed as the camera pans to show exactly that person sitting beside Leroy, who was still wearing the smug look he had three or four days ago.

Drusus was speechless. He had thought that the man had died after he brought home Leroy. He didn't know that he was still alive. The boy shut off the television and walked out of the room. Dale followed suit and when he got out on the porch, he just saw Drusus standing there.

"Are…are you alright?" He asked his friend.

"Yeah…I'll be okay." He said as he let out a huge long breath he was holding in. "Let's go back inside. I want to watch what happens for strategy."

They watched the Games, it lasted longer than expected and by the time the Victor was crowned it was later afternoon. The boy from One held his arm up to the sky, he was panting heavily, his clothes soaked in blood. The weapon he held still in his other hand, dripping red with blood.

Dale couldn't help but notice the tears fell from Drusus' eyes. He didn't mention it, because he knew well enough that his best friend doesn't cry for any reason. He just stayed silent as they sat in silence, the only noise coming from the television that sat in the corner.

* * *

 _ **The Third Hunger Games**_

* * *

He was seventeen now.

Old enough to work back in the mines of his own village; he didn't need Leroy's support now, so he left his care and would just come back for training sessions. However, since Balas' victory and his subsequent tour Drusus had been going to training less and less. Leroy did not like this, he had developed a fondness for the boy, one where he felt like the bigger brother to the boy.

Every scheduled day that goes past as a no show would leave a pang on the older boy. He would wait by the porch steps, with wooden weapons he got carved by a local workshop. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand and drank. The bitter burn goes down his throat as he stared forward.

"Fuck this."

Leroy stood up, takes the wooden swords and travels within the town centre. He had no idea where the boy lived but he knew that he frequented the centre, he was earning money now and last he heard he was living with his friend and their siblings. He must go into town to buy supplies.

He looked everywhere, even asked a few awestruck people but nothing. Nothing until he saw his friend. He couldn't remember his name, but he was out with his little sister, he marched towards them both.

"Look, Dale, it's the scary man." The little girl pointed at him, to say he was not offended even a little bit by that comment would be a lie.

"Lyre! Don't say such things," Dale had scolded the girl and she eventually, and begrudgingly he might add, apologised. "May I help you Mr. Ramnes?"

"Leroy and yes, you know who I'm looking for."

It wasn't a question, it was a demand. He wanted to straighten this rebellious phase on the boy before he goes AWOL next year. Dale only seemed to squirm under his gaze and tried his best to lie and hide his friend away. The little girl too was oblivious about the boy's whereabouts.

Leroy just sighed and left the other two, or it seemed like he did, but he secretly followed them back to their village. It wasn't a long walk, but it sure felt that way. Leroy checked the sign:

' _ **Village Eta  
Population: 250'**_

"So, this is where that runt lived…" He whispered to himself.

Leroy had to admit, he had never been to any of the villages. Not many people from the centre of the district ever strayed too far from it and he could see why. There are homeless people strewn about the streets like dolls. He noticed the people looking at him, still holding onto the wooden sword.

He could still see the little girl walk into a corner and he followed suit, he ignored the people that plead for help. The house Dale and Lyre walked into where dishevelled looking, although it was more well-kept than other houses in the vicinity.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned around to see Drusus stand with his arms crossed. He was wearing a dark grey jumpsuit, with only the bottom part on. He was wearing a sleeveless white shirt, although it was covered in dust and mud. His face looked equally as dirty.

"I'm here to take you back."

"Why would I want to go back?" He asked as he unfolded his arms.

"What happened to your plan?" Leroy countered. "What happened to winning and proving me wrong?"

"I don't need to prove you wrong anymore, I just need to help out Dale and his family."

The boy tried to walk past Leroy, but he was stopped by the swords he was still carrying. Drusus just scoffed and tried to push them away, but Leroy held onto them tight. He struggled a bit and he knew that working in the quarry and mines had helped the boy's physique and strength.

"If you want peace and out of my life then you'll have to beat m-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he felt a punch connect to his face. Leroy staggered backwards, held onto his cheek, which hurt like hell, and just smiled. The boy had learned a lot in the last two years, and with the strength to match he had no doubt that he would win.

He quickly rushed back towards Drusus, he grabbed one hand and punched as hard as he can at the boy's stomach. The boy let out his breath, he keels over in pain. He looked up at him and just smiled. He grabbed onto both his legs and pulled as hard as he could.

Leroy comes tumbling down on the ground and Drusus straddles him and began to punch his face. He could only laugh as he felt the power hit his hands, he had blocked most of it and he pushed the boy to the dusty ground. He took one of the swords and hit the boy with it a couple of times before he held the blade to his neck.

"And now you're dead." He said with a smirk.

"Whatever." Drusus flicked the sword away from his face.

Leroy helped the boy up and they stood there for a minute or two before Leroy just nodded and left. He took one of the swords and left the other with the boy. He didn't say anything else and he just returned to his home.

Drusus just sighed and walked back to where Dale was waiting at the doorway. He looked upset, more worried than upset really. He saw most of the fight and he knew that Drusus would not want him to interfere despite what had happened.

"I think you should go back." Dale said once everyone was all tucked in and settled. They were both sitting on the ratty couch that constituted as Drusus' bed. The very same boy looked him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"You tired of me already?" He teased his friend.

"No, in fact you're really great with the guys and Lyre." Dale said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, Leroy is a bad influence on Lyre, and I no doubt that he would continue to show up here."

"He is a bad influence; did you know that he gambled my father's prison sentence?"

"No, I didn't hear that, where did you hear it?" Dale was curious now, it seemed Leroy had more hobbies than just training an orphan from the streets for the death Games.

"Down at the quarry with the other boys, they teased me at first but I'm over it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I know that my father would never be released from prison, I got told he wanted to stay there, he doesn't know I'm alive and it's too late now that he won't be able to get out."

"So, you forgive him?"

"Not technically, I'm going to win next year and stop him from doing something like that ever again."

"You're a good man, Drusus Vorenus."

Drusus didn't know what happened next, but he could feel Dale lean closer and their lips touch for a moment and no longer. He felt a strange feeling all over, he stood up fast and coughed. He grabbed a change of clothes and then the sword.

"I…uh…I'll see you around?"

"Y-yeah."

Leroy hated the way Dale looked as he left his home. From that day on, he saw Dale and his siblings less and less because Leroy had put no stop to his training. His breaks were him power napping before he would be submitted to rigorous exercises followed by weapons training.

He continued the routine even after Leroy had left for the Third Hunger Games. He noted the similarity of the coliseum from the previous year but that the weapons were different. He watched this Games in its entirety noting different strategies.

Drusus noted the alliances that would form and then dissolved in a matter of minutes as the small arena would not let anyone have some form of rest or any hiding places. He turned it off after the runt from Nine had won, he had no qualms with it but he really thought that the Elevens would take this one.

* * *

 _ **The Fourth Hunger Games**_

* * *

"So, can I take your last name or not?"

"What? Yeah, whatever." Leroy said from somewhere. "I can't believe you didn't get a last name, you really were an orphan huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Drusus managed to say putting one of Leroy's suit jacket over the only good white t-shirt he could afford.

He wore his best clothing and shoes for the occasion, he didn't know why but everyone seemed to have been wearing their good clothing to the reapings lately. His dark blue jeans and his scuffed shoes completed the look.

"You ready?" Leroy said from the doorway this time.

"Yeah."

They make their way to the district centre in no time. The adrenaline was building up within his whole body and he could feel the buzz and high from it. Drusus was going to volunteer and potentially win these Games.

As far as he knew he was the only trained tribute going into the Games. This one isn't going to last long. He didn't even put the thought of killing in his head because he knew that what he was doing is right. He was doing this for Dale and to protect the people of Two from any further damage by Leroy.

The Treaty was read once more, and Drusus let his mind wander a little bit. He wondered what a second victor in Two is going to be like. How would this please the masses and the starving. Would he want to take Dale and his family back to his home in the Victor's Village? Of course, he would, there's no way he wouldn't.

Speaking of, he looked at Dale beside him, he had grown a lot more since the last time. He had begun to work in the quarries once again when he left suddenly. This was the first time seeing him since the incident, that one kiss that he could not get out of his head.

"And now for the tributes, the female tribute is…Lavinia Matthews."

The girl jumped from her position in the fifteen-year-old section. She began to cry and was dragged, quite harshly, by the Peacekeepers. The mayor ignored her cries and pleas as he continued to read the name for the male tribute but before he could Drusus went into action.

"I volunteer! I volunteer to be this year's tribute!"

There were gasps and shocked faces abound. The mayor's face showed a semblance of shock before straightening his face. He looked at a Capitol official, just to see if this was allowed, and he nodded after reading through a set of rules.

Drusus made his way up to the stage, he stood beside the girl and he introduced himself to the crowd. All he heard where whispers as he is whisked back into the Justice Building and soon the Capitol.

The rest of the days leading up to the actual event went by in such a blur. He could remember spending at least three days inside some room. During which he would exercise and eat food he was given. He didn't really do much other than that.

On the third day he was let out of the room and led out onto some platform. The Peacekeeper assigned to him was silent, everything around him was quiet, although he could hear a faint cheer and applause from above him. He was about to say something to break the awkward silence when the platform he stood on began to rise.

The smell of musty iron was the first thing he smelt, followed by blinding warm sun and then almost immediately after the deafening cheers of the Capitol citizens. He looked around for Leroy but couldn't find him. He instead focused back on the arena he was in. He was correct about one theory: they're reusing the same arena from the last two Games.

There were two things different about this arena, however: there were stone structures, almost like houses, some with wooden doors and others just archways, scattered everywhere and the second there were no weapons. He floated up from the perimeter of the colosseum, the other tributes did too. He glanced to his side and saw the Four and Five girl beside him.

When the countdown ended, and the gong rang, about half the tributes fled into the houses, the others went into the centre to see if maybe the weapons were all hidden. It's a far cry to the First and Second Hunger Games were many hesitated to even move from their starting positions.

Drusus got to the middle first and confirming that there are no weapons, he was followed closely by the Nine and the One boy.

"Temporary truce?" He offered and they both smiled and nodded.

So, they attacked those that wanted to see the center of arena. Drusus kills the boy from Six first, he picked up the skinny tribute and smashed his head to the floor several times. His gunshot was heard soon after. He heard many more gunshots. He did the same with the girls from Five, Six and Four girls.

Once the initial Bloodbath was over, the Nine boy immediately attacked Drusus, he managed to throw the boy off and stepped hard on the boy's face again and again until his gunshot confirms him dead. The One boy attacked him too, he was built but not built enough for the far stronger boy. He threw a punch at Drusus, but he just dodged him, took his arm and snaps it. The sickening snap of the bone suggested it was broken and the boy keeled over in pain. Drusus kicked him in the face and then strangled the boy to death.

He caught his breath for a couple of minutes, the relentless cheering spurred him on even more as he took to one of the houses, as he entered he heard a shriek, he turned to look at the girl from Three as she cowered in the corner. There was a sword by the door and he picked it up.

"I'll make it quick." He said and didn't wait for a response from the girl as he plunged it into her heart.

He made it out of the house, the blood dripping out of his sword confirmed another gunshot by the watchers. He looked around for more people, but it seemed they were all in hiding. He trawled the colosseum, he checked each building, there weren't much within them. They were empty for the best part, but he could still hear gunshots which suggested that tributes were still dying.

He turned one corner and saw a glimpse of colour and he ran towards it. He saw, once he turned the corner from the house that it was mainly the Four and the Seven tributes that were killing as he watched his district partner impaled by the spear the Four boy was holding.

The way he didn't care irked him a bit but as it seemed that the remaining tributes were all here. Other than him and the Four boy and the Seven tributes, there were the Eight boy, both the Elevens, the Twelve boy. The Eight boy headed for him first, his knife brandished at him; he dodged backwards, he couldn't help but noticed the way the Elevens had engaged with the Seven.

Drusus delivered a heavy kick to the side of the boy, he collapsed along with his knife and it only took seconds before his gunshot could be heard. The Four boy was next, seemingly teamed up with the Twelve boy as they marked him as a threat.

He parried the spear, and he took it from the Four boy who had a shocked look on his face. The spear was then jabbed towards the Twelve boy killing him instantly. Still with the shocked look on his face, the Four boy backed away and started to run but Drusus was faster, and he caught up in no time. He stabbed the boy with his sword several times and watched him crumple to the ground.

He watched as the Eleven boy ran away from the Sevens as both tributes kill his district partner. The boy bumped into Drusus, he didn't even know that he was there. Drusus just smirked before slashing the boy's throat open, he left the boy there as he died in a pool of his own blood.

"Just us three now," the Seven boy said out loud.

Drusus stayed quiet. He just looked at each of the Seven tributes, their faces were eager. The girl tried to attack first, and she was about to strike him with her axe, but she collapsed suddenly, and her gunshot was heard soon after.

"How about that?" The boy said, and he began to laugh.

"Why would you do that?"

The Seven boy just continued to laugh as he rushed towards Drusus. He tried a punch and he connected making the boy stumble backwards. He dropped his sword at the shock and he watched as the boy from Seven took the sword and launched it away.

Drusus was more prepared this time as he dodged and blocked every punch. The boy continued his onslaught, Drusus could not find an opportunity that is until he backed into the Seven girl's body. The axe was still lodged into her spine. He tried his best to push the boy and once he had a bit of time he took the axe and attacked with it.

The crowd's cheers exploded like fireworks, Drusus had looked away and when he looked back he saw that the axe had buried itself deep into the boy's skull. He backed away as the boy falls to the ground.

He did it.

He won.

Drusus smiled to himself as he looked at the crowd cheering for him. He didn't care for them and he looked at the crowds for Leroy and once he saw him, the usual smug face was replaced with a face with Drusus could only describe as pride.

* * *

 **A/N - Sorry, uploaded it without editing the sub headings.**


	6. Thomas Trellia

The cool night air hits his face, refreshing and stung just right. The moon was in full bloom as it dances on the river. The slow trickle of water calms him down as he gulps down another beer he had brought before heading behind the Victor's Village.

Thomas Trellia could not believe he was alive. He could not believe that the moment was over so quick. His hands tremble slightly but he ignores it in favour of drinking more alcohol. His Victory Tour is in less than a month and all he had done to prepare was to lock himself inside his house, only coming out when he needed food and drinks.

District Seven had seen better days but they had rebuilt faster than any other districts since the war. Rebels have fled, save for Oak Jessup; now a free man thanks to the ridiculous rule set by the President. The name scorns his mind and he downs another beer.

He liked nights like this. Where the night air is cool, and the moon was up in the sky, he looked up to see the moon, bigger and whiter than he had ever seen it. The river was a great find, behind the Victor's Village. It was a great find because he was the sole Victor, for now at least, and he found solace in that. His father declined his invitation to live with him and his mother was long dead from the war.

Thomas wondered what the future held for him, what he could offer future tributes now that the he had won. He opens another beer and swigs it down. He had no plan, he won because he was strong, and so did most of the tributes this year.

The arena was the same but different. Drusus Ramnes' arena had houses, the same houses in his own arena but now destroyed and derelict. The biggest and most dangerous feature, one that took the lives of most of the tributes, was the giant gaping hole in the centre arena. He could remember pushing one or two tributes down there.

It was unprecedented, that fourteen tributes would die in the bloodbath that day in the first hour alone. The second hour resulted in Thomas cutting through at the rest of the tributes totalling to an overall seven kills. His first kill during the second half of the Games was the Four boy then the Nine boy almost immediately after him. The sword the Nine boy had held at the time had given Thomas a nasty scar. He took the pain head on and ended the boy as fast as possible.

He felt his scar through the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. The pain was subsiding, but it was still there. He could remember how much it bled, how it made him lightheaded, but he persevered as he tried his best to make it to his district partner.

It was the daughter of Oak Jessup and he felt the same way Leroy Ramnes had felt during his Games, how he was ignored by their supposed mentor and instead focused on his daughter. Another swig of the alcohol left him feeling a little buzzed finishing it, he cracked another open and takes another swig.

He wanted to end the girl's life in the arena, to take revenge for what the rebels had done to his District, to his home, to his mother. He sighs as more memories rose up from the surface. Jessup's daughter ended up getting killed by the Two tributes. They were the favourites, they had two mentors to their name now and were hoping for another one, but he ended their dreams pretty quickly.

The last moments of the Games were exciting. He had managed to dodge the Two boy's attack and had the ingenious idea of throwing sand at his face. He couldn't believe his luck when it had hit and whilst he was temporary blinded. Thomas then pushed the boy into the hole, the dark endless abyss that had swallowed the others.

He laughed to himself as another swig of alcohol makes him hazy.

He laughed at the way the Two girl had stared in disbelief, her shock face was visible in his mind. The unusually sharp features of the girl softened when she was surprised. If both of them had not been in the arena he would have had enough courage to ask her out, but this was the Hunger Games and the hatchet in his hands at the time had already buried itself onto her chest as she too plummeted down the hole to be together with her district partner.

The rest were all a blur from there, he was sure he had passed out from the injury he had sustained from the Nine boy. He woke up a day or so later with a start and Oak Jessup staring at him with what he could only assume was bitter contempt.

Oak Jessup.

His mind comes back to the man that had ignored him on the train ride over. The one that had ostracised him the minute he had stepped up on the stage. The man that he wanted to kill just because he was a rebel, he had started the rebellion in Seven.

In his drunken haze and growing anger Thomas had left the empty alcohol bottles and stepped into the river. He bent over and splashed some water onto his face, to try and wake him up a little, hoping to sober him up but it never helped.

He saw his own reflection in the water, the moon was on the top corner of his vision. The boy staring back at him looked tired, but he looked angry too. His fist goes and hit the water and he rushed back to his home.

The cool calm wind of only moments ago was now changed to a tempest, a storm almost, as he ran as fast as he can back to his home. Once he got there he slammed the door open and rushed towards the living room. He stood there for a moment, his breath coming out in waves as he stared at the hatchet sitting atop the fireplace; the very same one he had used to deal the final blow before he had won.

He steadied his breath first, he looked at the weapon in his hands. His memory hazed mind was somehow telling him not to do it but there were other factors in play. His heart rate was raised, his eyes darken, and his breath seems to hitch. He took the axe and went into town. He had one person in mind and only that one person.

The town was quiet, the celebrations had stopped months ago when he returned home. It was now back to its normal self, the quietness only accentuated by the night. His alcohol riddled mind had completely taken over as he ran past the dirt road, passed by other drunkards on their way back to their home or the homeless that slept beside houses.

He looked mad and deranged by the time he had arrived by a dimly lit house. He had looked into the window to see the man quietly reading a book by the fireplace. The man looked well, his dishevelled looks from when he was wrenched out of prison to mentor tributes every year now looked clean and nice. His balding grey-red hair and his beard were prominent.

Thomas banged against the door, rather too loudly for the town and for the person on the other side of the door. The door opened to a surprised Oak Jessup, his eyes widened before looking towards the hatchet held between his hands.

"I don't know what you're planning, boy, but whatever it is it's not a good idea."

"Says you…" Thomas declared before lifting the hatchet and slammed it into the man's chest.

The man took it in tow, his eyes widened, and blood splattered everywhere before the man collapsed to the ground with a thud. There were no one around, no one sober enough to report to the authorities. It was dark enough; the silver moon being covered by clouds appeared too convenient.

Thomas stood there, his hands tremble slightly and he tried to swallow the lump building up in his throat. His breath hitched once more and suddenly it was coming out so fast that he couldn't even stop it. His hands go to his face, then to his hair as he pulled on it slightly. The panic slowly sunk in, he moved slowly as various ideas come to his mind. He took both the legs in his hands and pulled on it slowly. He had no idea what he was going to do. He pulled his shirt up to cover his face, exposing the scar on his stomach.

* * *

His hands continued to tremble, the beer in his hand trembled slowly as he tried to drink. His sober side was taking over. He couldn't believe what he had just done. The body of Oak Jessup lay beside him. The hatchet removed from his chest already. He had washed it clean by the river, the blood being dragged away somewhere further downstream.

He put the weapon back atop his fireplace. He had gone back to man's house and cleaned up bits of the blood. He sighed in relief when he found that no one had gone to investigate. The early morning dawn was beginning as it pushed away the silver moon.

It took him an hour to clean the front of the house. People greeted him on the sidewalk as he finished. He smiled at them, not often did he but it made people happy to see the Victor walk their streets.

He returned back to the riverside with a shovel. The bottles of beer and the body were still there. All the blood seemed to have drained from body and as he pushed it with the shovel he found it to be so rigid. He winced. His head was spinning now as it began to pound.

He started to dig.

Another hour and he was burying the rigid body of his former mentor, the former rebel of Seven. He poured the rest of the alcohol and its bottles with the man and started to rain the soil and rocks onto it.

Afterwards he returned to the river, washed his hands and splashed his face. The sun was up, replacing the moon. He felt the warmth of the rays as the cool wind comes back to him. He looked back to where he had buried the body and then left.

Thomas Trellia never returned to the same riverside as he locked himself back into his home until he was dragged for his Victory Tour.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Capitol  
Three days before the Reapings for the 81st Hunger Games**_

 _"That's it?" I say out loud as I read the reports made by my contact._

 _Indeed, Thomas Trellia had always been so mystical. Not much was known about him, but I thought there would be something else, like a distant relative or something. I sigh as I chuck the report on the table. There's never enough data on these past Victors._

 _Leroy Ramnes, I knew was an impulsive gambler. He never amounted to anything other than teasing the other Victors. He never truly hated the Games, in fact the reports I had from him showed that he profited from it until he died, to which I didn't even know when he did die._

 _Balas Beacon eventually managed to bring home a Victor, Jasper Alcott and Flash Gladstone were all his doing. These three would eventually figure out that prosperity to the district will get you in the good books of the Capitol and therefore purchased a building in the centre of One in which they trained tributes under the guise of a prestigious school._

 _Adlay he didn't know much about either, the reports he had managed to gain from both his sources was that he suffered a lot more anxiety attacks later on in his life. He would eventually recover but the reports of alcoholic abuse were more prominent._

 _I did manage to dig up my grandfather's old journal in which he wrote in explicit accounts of the Victors up until the forty-fifth Hunger Games. He wrote in great detail how Adlay suffered from anxiety and had tried numerous times to intervene but the kind natured boy from Nine, at the time, had refused countless help. Adlay Durum had died from alcohol poisoning sometime during the third decade._

 _Drusus would eventually settle down, after denying several times that he was in love with his best friend Dale Feldspar. Although Drusus does meet an untimely demise sometime before the fifth decade of the Games. There were newspaper articles written about it somewhere but for the life of me I can't find out._

 _A knock on the door had me scrambling at the paperwork on my desk and shoving them to the nearest drawers. I look at the door and see my brother, Cyril, stroll in with the flashiest smile I had ever seen him in. He sits at one of the seats in front of me and just looks me straight in the eye._

 _"What?" I ask feeling somewhat uncomfortable._

 _"Guess what?" He says, almost giving me a chance to answer before he blurts it out. "I got a job working for the Capitol network!"_

 _I could barely believe it, or rather I could, considering Cyril hangs around that building enough for them to finally give them a job._

 _"Wow!" I say, dragging my words as I look at him with a smile. "What does this job entail?"_

 _"I'm just an intern so far but there's a chance for progression. I can even work under the current Master of Ceremonies Diablo Charles!"_

 _"So, you're not getting paid?"_

 _"Correct! But…I will finally be doing something I like!"_

 _I sigh, my younger twin brother has the wildest imagination, then again, he's not harbouring some sort of secret. Whilst I'm scheming and doing practically illegal work, he's off living his dreams. In a way I am proud of him. Another knock at the door disturbs our conversation. In comes two people, a peacekeeper and a woman caked with a lot of makeup on._

 _"Well you must be a very busy man now that you have this job, what with the Reapings in three days or so." I tell my brother and he looks from the woman and the man to me, he nods his head suddenly so quiet._

 _"I'll see you later then…" He says and then leaves._

 _We wait a few moments until both the woman and the man sit on the chairs in front of my desk. The man hands me a flash drive from his pocket and the woman pulls a similar one from her…breast. She winks at me before smiling devilishly._

 _"I think you need a purse." I tell her, and she laughs._

 _"I like making you uncomfortable Cade." She says and laughs some more._

 _"What news do you have for me then?" I ask both of them._

 _Lincoln Walker, the man to my left speaks up first, he rubs the back of his neck, the way he does so when he's about to apologise for something. His green eyes look away from my gaze._

 _"Nothing, so far. The stuff in this flash drive is about the Victors in later decades."_

 _"And you Cassandra?" I turn to the woman._

 _"I have found information from Jasper Alcott all the way to the Tenth Hunger Games." She tells me with another smile._

 _"Brilliant. I've just written up about Thomas Trellia from Seven and he's had an interesting past."_

 _"Wait? That man I've found further information on him." Lincoln suddenly speaks up, he gets up from his chair and takes his flash drive and plugs it into the computer beside me. The files pop open and he clicks through and end up with a newspaper article._

' _ **The axeman of District Seven found and convicted to be Thomas Trellia from the Fifth Hunger Games! This and more inside the Daily Capitol!'**_

 _"When was this?" I ask the man leaning over still._

 _"Around the forty-fifth or so Games." He says standing up and folding his arms._

 _"Fascinating." I say looking at the front page again._

 _The crude black and white image, of what seems to be from a security camera, shows the younger man with a shirt over his head. It's blurry but it seems to catch the scar on the killer's stomach. I wonder if he had killed more people then? He must have if he got convicted._

 _"It's time I best get going, Cade." Cassandra tells me as she stands. "I need to pack my bags. District Twelve isn't going to mentor themselves!"_

 _With her as the mentor I don't think they'll ever win. He waves her goodbye and Lincoln too excuses himself away from the space leaving me to my thoughts. I finger the flash drive Cassandra had given me._

 _I click away from the file on my screen and then to where I had written up all about Thomas Trellia, my mouse hovers over the publish button. I debate whether to change the narrative, but I decided against it and just click._


	7. Jasper Alcott

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Capitol  
Day of the Tribute Parade of the 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _The Capitol is in full swing now._

 _I can hear the crowds outside my apartment this morning as they celebrated the arrival of the tributes for this year's Games. My brother had been here only last night to talk about the Reapings. There certainly was a good bunch of tributes this year. The Ones and the Twos especially are ones to look out for. It's about time for a Career to win._

 _Speaking of Careers, Jasper Alcott is next up on the list of Victors. Winning at the young age of sixteen, he is one of the youngest Career district to win the Games. Although he wasn't the initial choice for the Games. The concept of volunteering for one's own district is not yet established other than what Drusus had done two years ago but there were rumours at the time that Jasper Alcott was a last-minute addition._

 _The mayor at the time: Richard Virgos had announced Jasper's name instead of what was on the slip of paper, which was his own son, Richard. Some have speculated that Balas Beacon himself have suggested the name Jasper to the mayor, but I believe that the mayor was quite happy to sacrifice another Great House for his own political gain as well as saving his son._

 _You see, researching about District One has come up with a various history regarding the Great Houses. Thirteen strong and wealthy family gather along a boulevard in One. Here housed the important and the wealthy. The last house sat atop a hill, overlooking grapevines and the centre. Sitting atop that hill is the Virgos Family._

 _They are the most powerful and wealthiest family of One. Coincidentally as I look forward to the tiny research I have on future decades of Games, they have never sent one of their own to die in the Games. Which is how I reckon they managed to stay on top._

 _The other families go as follows from richest to slightly less so: Overbrooke, Yolk, Beacon, Graff, Alcott, Swarovski, Windsor, Gladstone, Gieves, Hawkes, Buchanan and finally Villiers. Buchanan rose to prominence after the Dark Days, taking over from the previous Gellis family who had started the rebellion in One. The sole remaining person from said family is nowhere to be seen since Balas had won, although he does make a reappearance sometime at the turn of the third decade of the Games._

 _I digress._

 _The Alcott's were known for their wine. Owning one of the greatest fertile lands of One, they were able to rise to power with the empire built on grapes. Bucegi Alcott himself had apparently said that 'District One does not run on water and oil but with wine!'._

 _A bold statement, and it became even bolder as his son became a Victor making his family rise even more into the social ladder._

* * *

 _ **Alcott Mansion  
Before the Reaping of the 6th Hunger Games**_

* * *

The piano sends a soft melody across the ballroom of the Alcott mansion. The guests mingle with one another. Jewellers, politicians and the wealthy all gather in the polished ballroom ground talking about whatever was in season or the latest news regarding the Hunger Games. The district didn't like it at first, but the introduction of the Hunger Games and the subsequent victory of Balas Beacon seemed to have catapulted the district into a new light under the Capitol.

Products and margins soared when Balas had won. His face and personality for business helped One be on the good side of the Capitol. His acumen as not only a businessman but as a victor made his family rise far above others in One. His charming sensibility and handsome features no doubt helped him win over several, if not thousands of, people in the Capitol.

Jasper Alcott didn't like him as much.

He admired the man for what he had done to his family, something he too would like to do to his but the way he paraded himself in his own ballroom was sickening to watch. The way he would smile at the other business owners, the way he shook hands with politicians and just how he could surprisingly laugh so easily at the jokes amongst the wealthy; he hated it.

Jasper sighed as he moved away from the corner of the room and into the parlour. The minute he opened the big wooden doors, he is met with laughter and cheers. Several children run past him, not a care in the world.

All the Great Houses' children were here, or at least most of them are. Jasper sat beside his sister, Carras, and his friend Flash as they listened to Armani Overbrooke and Royce Virgos talk about how wonderful Balas had been during the Games. The tapes for the Games had finally been released and everyone in this room had at least seen bits of it.

Jasper could only remember how brutal Balas had been to the girl from Two. The way he had gripped the dirt and blood-stained hair between his hand and how the knife in his other hand glided across her neck like it was made of butter. He shuddered at the thought and he instinctively move his hands to his neck.

"You okay?" Flash says beside him.

"Hmm? Yeah." He smiles.

"Are you sick of the Balas stories too?" He says with a smirk and Jasper could only smirk in return.

"You can say that."

Just then the devil himself walks into the parlour. Both Armani and Royce approach the boy and greeted him with starry eyes. It's like everything has changed since he had won. Not Balas but the group dynamic had changed drastically. The victor had always been self-centred and egotistical but since winning, everyone seemed to speak of nothing but adoration of the man.

Carras moved away from him to talk to the other kids. Soon after they all crowd against Balas and he laughs as he sits where Armani had been sitting. Hugh Yolk let him sit on his seat and took a stool for himself.

"Tell us how you felt again!" Garnet Gladstone asked, and Jasper swore he heard Flash sigh loudly, but no one seemed to have noticed.

At this moment Jasper was about to say something but Flash and now Madeline Windsor holds him down. They both look at him as if to say not to start any sort of drama. He held his tongue then, but he was so tempted to say something. He looked at them both as Balas retells his version of events.

It may or may not be true but for some reason Jasper could tell the boy was exaggerating. How he loved Lala, or that they had secret relations. He was willing to bet that they didn't knew each other at all before the Games had started. He seemed to scoff at bits and 'tut' at the others.

"Would you like to say something?" Balas finally says and all eyes were on him now.

"Jasper. Don't." Madeline warns him.

"Yeah, I actually want to." Jasper ignores her. "All I'm saying is that your Games happened four years ago. I'm pretty sure that the horse you've been beating is long gone by now."

No one seemed to say anything. Balas just smirks.

"You think you can do better than me?" He asks him as he stands up from the chair as he moved towards the boy. "Why don't you volunteer this year and we'll see who is better?"

"No thanks." Jasper says quietly, and he could hear a couple of snickers, especially from the older boys.

"Then I suggest you shut the hell up. You'll never be in the same pedestal as me." He says as he sits back down to the chair.

Jasper, embarrassed and ashamed leaves the parlour. Madeline and Flash in tow. Everyone else remained quiet as they all watched the polished brown door shut slowly behind the retreating group. The older boys began to laugh and Balas joins them.

"Maybe he should go to the Games, that will waken him up!" Armani says out loud.

"Doubt he would win though," Royce laughed. "The guy would get killed in two seconds flat."

No one else found it as funny as the three older boys did. Although it did put an idea in Balas' head. How he could rig the Reaping for his own benefit, or just to see Jasper Alcott in that arena. He would have to speak to the mayor about that, or to Royce, he had the boy wrapped around the finger now that he had become famous.

* * *

 _ **Beacon Mansion  
Before the Reaping of the 7th Hunger Games**_

* * *

It was raining, yet the soft pitter patter of the water seemed to compliment the music from the piano. There were a lot more guests in this mansion than last year's. He didn't expect a lot of people to come near him either. He took a sip of the sickly-sweet punch in his hands as he stands in the corner.

Jasper Alcott looked at each of the guests individually, he had become everything he had hated. He was shaking hands with the politicians he didn't even remember the names of; smiled at the business owners and even laughed at the stupid and dry jokes some of the elites would tell. He did it all, so he could be presentable.

Rumour was that there were Capitol officials about but so far, he couldn't spot any of them, not like he tried. Another sip from the drink and he raised the cup when he spotted one of the many faces he had met tonight glanced a look at him. He smiled too and once that certain person looked away he went back to a slight frown.

"My boy!"

Bucegi Alcott almost announced as he approached the sulking boy in the corner, Balas Beacon in tow. The boy looked just as smug as he had last year and even throughout his time in the Capitol. His father hugged him, awkwardly with the drink he was holding before pulling away.

"My boy…" He repeated, this time with slight tears in his eyes. "To think I ever doubted you for a second."

"Thanks father." He said. "Can I be excused?"

He glanced at Balas who just looked away, not a care in the world. Bucegi nodded and patted the boy's dirty blond hair before he left the two. He raced out into the grander ballroom, he didn't stop for anyone that even waved him down as he could feel his heart start to beat faster.

He stepped in front of the door and opened it with a big push. The rain had been reduced to a few droplets and all Jasper could do was through the glass that was still in his hand into the ground. It shattered spilling what little liquid it contained. His mind filled with thoughts that he had tried his best to supress ever since emerging victorious all those months ago. He closed his eyes as he tried his best to steady his breathing but that seemed make it worse.

 _The dust blew around the arena as his platform had risen from the ground. The first thing he felt was the heat of the sun, then he was deafened by the loud noises from the Capitol crowds. His eyes squinted as it tried to adjust to the intense sunlight. He looked around the arena as he focused._

 _His first sight was the big hole from the Fifth Hunger Games. Then the houses, that have existed since the Second Games all but reduced to rubble now. The only thing he could see that were new were the wooden spikes that surrounded the arena. He looked to his back to see it protruding towards his back, one misstep and he would have been impaled almost instantly._

 _The last thing he had noticed were the swords, some embedded into the dusty ground itself and others lay motionless and gathering the red rusty dust. He could tell that they were all closer to the big hole in the middle of the arena. He closed his eyes, he tried to formulate a strategy and as the gong hit he just ran…_

"Jasper?" He opened his eyes and looked to where the voice was and saw Madeline, with a worried look on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah." He said but his hands could not stop trembling and to avoid any more worried glances from his friend. "Just needed the fresh air."

He tried and failed to smile as they both stared at the broken glass in front of them. He could hear her sigh but then approached the boy and gave him a hug. The faint smell of strawberries filled his senses as the flash of her honey-blonde hair seemed to relax him almost instantly. Although she had hugged him, he stood there motionless like a wooden pylon.

"Let's go back inside." She suggested, and Jasper could only nod.

Once they were inside, he sighed again as his father approached with other people he could not give a damn about. Madeline excused herself and told him to meet her in the parlour after he was done, and with that his only comfort left him as his father now stood in front of him.

"Son," he started. "These are some of my business partners, Caligula Valentine, as you would have probably known already, and Charles Bane."

"Nice to meet you," he says as he shook hands with Caligula and Charles. "I look forward to whatever business venture my father had brought."

Bucegi laughed rather loudly at that and gave his boy a pat on the back as he brought Jasper closer to his body with the one arm forcing his son to look at both the business partners. He started to talk about future ventures and diversifying before Jasper completely zoned out.

He thought about Madeline suddenly, his mind addled. His long-time friend just suddenly gave him a hug, not something they do often. His heart started racing again, this time he could tell it's not another flashback, not another torment. It was beating, or rather yearning, for Madeline and that just confused him further.

"Father, if you don't mind I would like to be excused." Jasper said, and he got out of the vice grip his father held him in.

All Bucegi could do was nod as he had never seen his son to act so firm. The Hunger Games had released all doubts against his son only to be filled with worry, not for his own son but for himself. He was, in fact, a murderer now.

Jasper opened the beautiful parlour doors, another sign that the Beacon family had splurged on their popularity by making their own home more like the Capitol. He recognised bits and pieces of the ballroom alone that he had spotted in the Capitol briefly.

The familiar sounds of the giggling girls and laughing boys could be heard but grew silent as he walked in. Madeline and Flash were speaking by the fireplace and when she looked at him, she smiled with this shy smile he never truly noticed until now.

Armani and Royce seemed quieter than usual. Balas is nowhere to be found, although he reckoned he was probably still chatting up all the officials and whatnot at the party. He approached his close friends as they sit by the lit fireplace. The sound of the crackling fire calmed him, and Flash wrapped a lone arm around his shoulders.

"You'd be a good mentor," he whispered to him. "I sure hope you know that."

"Yeah…" That's all he could really say as he stared at the dancing fire.

"Don't be so downtrodden, this party is all about you."

"It feels like I was paraded like nothing out there…Flash…it got a bit."

"A bit what?" Madeline suddenly asked, he completely forgot she was right there.

"It's…um…nothing…."

"No." She said as she spun him around to face her. "Tell me."

"It's the flashbacks…I keep getting them." He says as he sighed. "I can't stop it."

Madeline could only smile apologetically and as he was about to stand up the other kids swarmed him. The noise of the parlour burst into life again. Thousands upon thousands of questions sped through his mind that he couldn't even think. He closed his eyes, his breath begun to quicken once more.

Flash herded the children away from Jasper as Madeline took him to one of the corner chairs and sat him down. His breathing was still fast, like he couldn't breathe or that he was trying but nothing seemed to work. He closed his eyes and within that moment Jasper knew he was going to have another one.

Another flashback.

 _He didn't mean it._

 _It was all an accident, but he knew he had to defend himself. The only piece of advice that went through his mind from Balas himself was to kill. What was he supposed to do when the boy and girl from Nine had swarmed him almost immediately against the dusty arena._

 _He had the sword in his hands, his arms moved purely by instinct. The sword went through the girl first and when he wrenched it out, he slashed down the boy as well. They lay at his feet as he heard the deafening sound of the gunshot, signalling their death._

 _He couldn't breathe._

 _Like the dust and the shock of what he had done just ganged up on him suddenly. He couldn't run away, there were no places to hide. He heard the scream soon after as he looked to see more kids as they were struck down by other tributes, other bloodthirsty children, just like him._

 _He turned just in time to see the Two tributes surround his partner and then soon slashed down to the ground. Then his world seemed to implode. It was like the entire world went by slowly. Everywhere he looked there was someone dying or crying or both. He couldn't handle it anymore. He pictured the look of Balas' face, he knew that Jasper had no backbone._

 _He was left alone for a moment, but the Threes and the Fours surround him too. He waited for his end but then he thought of home, he thought about wanting to prove everyone that he is capable, that he can win this._

 _Just like that, his instinct took over. The Fours attacked first, with the Threes lingering behind them waiting to pick off whoever was left. The boy used his sword to slash down at him. He dodged just in time and he had managed to shove the girl to one of the spikes. Her scream was bloodcurdling, it happened so close to them that they all seemed to stop for a moment to watch the Four girl as her chest and stomach bleed from two wooden spikes._

 _He had managed to shake out of his stupor long enough to stab the boy through the stomach. In his shock, the boy from Four didn't really register his death until it felt like it was too late. The Three boy and girl soon followed the first two. The boy by his sword and the girl he had struck down just in time to see that the Twos had dispatched of the boy from Seven._

 _It had come down to the three of them._

 _The sunlight faded for a moment before it beamed down at the arena. Sweat mingled with blood and dust, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his outfit. He saw the red rust from the dirt mingle with the blood and it disgusted him._

 _The girl approached him first, followed by the boy. She seemed to laugh for a moment, thinking they had it in the bag, that Two would bring home another victor. Just as she was about to approach even closer, Jasper saw the sword blossom with blood through her stomach. She turned around, too late to do anything as the boy kicked her away from his sword._

" _Why?"_

" _Why?" Scoffed the boy from Two. "Because there can only be one winner, and that is going to be me."_

 _Sword clashed with swords. It was clear that the older boy was stronger, but Jasper never gave up. He kicked and punched his way through every opening. The Two boy got angrier the longer the fight grew and the cheers from the crowds pressured him to attack without tactic._

 _He charged, and Jasper dodged just in time for him to be pushed through the spiked arena perimeter. The sound of his body hitting the spikes followed by the blood that sprayed throughout his body chilled his mind, he watched the boy struggle as he tried to get out of the spike that had penetrated his arms and legs soon went limp…_

He woke up with a start, his breathing feels laboured as he looked around first. Where was he? Where did everyone go? The few beams of light peering itself from the curtains led his eyes to adjust until he realised that it was his own room; in the Victor's Village.

"You're finally awake?"

He looked towards the doorway, the lights turn on blinding him momentarily once again. He saw Balas as he leaned at the doorframe. He wore that same smug look on his face, he stood up, fixed his suit and tie. He sighed.

"Get ready."

"What for?" He asked the older victor.

"It's time for the Reapings." He said with another sigh. "Your suit is over there, don't be late. This is your first year after all."

"What happened last night?" He asked as he stood up, he still wore the same suit from last night.

"You fainted, in the parlour. I had to carry your sorry ass home." He said. "Now go and shower and get dressed. The Reapings are in five."

With that the victor left him to his thoughts. The events of last night swiftly flooded his senses once more but he just took a deep breath and released it. From this day on he would have to be brave and not let the past debilitate him.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Capitol  
After Tribute Parade of the 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _I look at the recaps of the tribute parade. I couldn't get tickets, or rather I couldn't get anymore, I gave my tickets as a contest prize. It didn't matter though. The whole ordeal of the Tribute Parade was a farce, just a way to garner more sponsors._

 _I never dabbled in sponsors, I never wanted to sponsor a tribute. I have favourites that I would like to see live but I never gave money to help them in anyway. This whole ordeal was more Cyril's thing than mines._

 _Regardless, the girl from Two is getting all the attention this year. She had a fierce look on her face, and she looked far from what Two normally sends. Her flowing blonde hair, and blueish eyes made wearing the toga she wore look heavenly, almost like a goddess._

 _She beat the Ones and the Fours in the beauty department too. It was such a shame her personality doesn't match her apparent angelic features. I remembered her Reaping, how quiet she was when she volunteered, how she stared down all other would be volunteers until they ultimately gave up._

 _A knock on the door alerted me and I quickly unlock it. Cyril is standing there with a paper bag. He looks at me with a worried glance before entering without me inviting him in, as per usual. His hairstyle has changed, and the colour is now a deeper purple, a sign that he is moving up at his new job at the Capitol News Network._

" _We haven't caught up in a while." He says._

" _You were here yesterday." I tell him, and he just laughs as he hands me the paper bag, inside were all my favourite food._

" _Yeah but we didn't catch up at all, I mean I have questions."_

" _What kind of questions?"_

" _The kind that had me wondering why you were gone for a week and none of your staff at the club could answer."_

" _I was just away on a business trip, that's all." I say looking away and taking a bite out of the burger._

" _You remember when we were kids? How we used to tell each other everything?"_

" _Yeah." I can feel the guilt building up now._

" _Lately, I don't feel like that's what's happening. You know?"_

" _Yeah, sort of." I say. "But my daily life is boring, yours is more interesting."_

 _His watch starts to bleep, and he apologises that he had to cut our near heart to heart moment short. He told me that this wasn't over. That he will return soon and confronting him really about what's going on._

 _I hear the front door slam shut._

 _All I need to know is that I can't tell him the truth. Nothing good will ever come from telling him what I've been doing on the side. At first, I was just curious about the victors and why all source of information has vanished in the Capitol but now it's become a hobby._

 _Finding out what's happened and how they lived their lives; the people they were associated with. The good and the bad side of having a high-status symbol as well as the downsides of at least murdering one person; to which I find that there were a lot of downsides._

 _In terms of Jasper Alcott, the victor of the Sixth Hunger Games, he suffered from more severe blackouts than the first time. He would never marry; the love of his life would soon meet her fate in the arena of the Hunger Games. He became afraid of commitment after failing to save her from the monstrosity that was the Hunger Games._

 _It makes me wonder why I ever liked watching the Hunger Games in the first place._


	8. Fossil Mazon

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Valentino's  
Valentino's  
Second Day of Training; 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _It's been a slow day today. The drama from the chariots subsided last night and as the tributes are hidden again from Capitol eyes and would not be seen until the interviews. The club is quieter than usual too, considering that after lunch is normally their busiest time. I get out of the office and walk into the main part of the club, there's hardly anyone here._

" _What is going on?" I ask Stephanie, who just sat at the barstool twiddling her pink hair._

" _The bar's empty."_

" _I can see that," I sigh and face her with a stern look. "I mean why are you just standing there and not getting customers?"_

" _Look, Cade, if I'm going to be completely honest with you, it's because this bar's reputation has gone done a bit since the 'Ashe Barrow' incident."_

 _I can't stand the air quotes she gave with the victor's name. She sighs in front of me and leaves to go to the back, she said something about checking our stock. In all fairness, she is right; there's no one here, the bar is as pristine as it was when he entered it this morning; normally it's crowded at this time._

" _Having a good time?" I look towards the doorway of the club and see Cassandra, wearing a very revealing fur coat and dress._

 _Her curious and playful blue eyes seem to scan the room before it lands on me, with just my white shirt and navy trousers. She seems to smirk before looking away again, touring the empty club before landing on the barstool where Stephanie magically reappears with Cassandra's favourite drink of wine. I take a seat beside her, and I tell Stephanie to go away, the girl huffs before she slides into the back once more._

" _What's going on? Where are all the mentors and the guests? This place used to be a hub for mentors getting sponsors." I ask myself more than her at this point, my head held by my hands._

" _The mentors are all at the mansion, they're having tea with the President. The other escorts don't like this club during the day, it's a more evening or late-night occasion."_

" _But it wasn't like_ _ **this**_ _last year." I reply, gesturing at the empty bar._

" _That doesn't matter, I'll get you guests if you want." She sips the last of her wine and standing up and heading towards my office._

 _I reluctantly sigh and follow the older woman into my office. She's sitting by the computer, reading my planning process for writing up the current victor that I'm on: Fossil Mazon. He's an interesting person; he won his Games with the least number of kills, a grand total of two, and had managed to retain some form of sanity after it too._

" _You've just typed '10 facts about Fossil Mazon' and then lists the ten facts." Cassandra looks at me. "You're not going to write about him at all? Was he that boring?"_

" _Not really," I tell her. "He was ordinary, he didn't kill a lot of tributes and he wasn't the one that was the crowd favourite. He's quite involved after his victory rather than his Games."_

" _Okay, so tell me about him." Cassandra says to me, looking at me with her blue eyes again, sweeping the black hair from her face._

" _Using the list?" I ask her._

" _Yeah."_

" _O-okay," I say, normally the list is just for me and then I read eyewitness accounts and the praises and formulate a blog post based on that but since Cassandra clearly doesn't care about sponsors as much as the other people I'll humour her._

* * *

 _ **Ten Facts about Fossil Mazon, the victor of the Seventh Hunger Games.**_

* * *

 _Number One:_  
 _His father as well as his family, were respected amongst the biggest village of the whole of Two._

* * *

His father, Achilles Mazon has become a sort of leader and village elder for Village Alpha. He's in charge of the three mines the village maintained, even although two of them are still operational. Achilles was the person to come to for any disputes, he acted fairly and equally towards his fellow villagers and would dole out punishment as he sees fit.

His mother, Almeida Mazon, is the village healer. She cares for all her villagers and is always there for them. She solves more problems than her husband, but she always lets Achilles take the credit. She was one of the main support healers during the Dark Days whilst Achilles was assigned as frontmen. Once the Dark Days were over, and the Hunger Games were instated to help with keeping the Districts under the Capitol's rule; Almeida sough to soothe mothers from losing their daughters and sons to the Games. Although it's only been at least seven years of the Games, she had consoled many mothers and even some fathers.

Too bad she was inconsolable herself when she saw her son on the stage as he looked rather calm under the immense pressure of the Games. She never stopped crying and would ask for updates constantly during his Games, how he was doing and if he's keeping well. Most of the questions were left unanswered until he returned home.

His brothers, Jovian, Valens and Otho were also well-respected Peacekeepers. They don't live within Village Alpha and instead travel to other Districts for work. They were all part of the war, in which they fought against the Rebellion. They were awarded with medals of honour and were all made into honorary Peacekeepers. Jovian is the eldest, followed by Valens and then Otho. Fossil comes next and then his two youngest sisters Electrum and then Silica.

* * *

 _Number Two:_  
 _The men of the Mazon family would all be successful, but the women would all meet terrible ends, especially Electrum and Silica._

* * *

Let's start with Jovian. Jovian was born way before the First Rebellion and was present for the war that followed. Their parents married young, or rather Almeida got pregnant young and since it was forbidden to get rid of the baby they had to have him. Jovian brought great joy to his then parents, both young and continues to be full of hope. It wasn't until he turned twenty when talks of Rebellion began and boys his age were enlisting to be part of the army force. His father and mother forbade it at first but when the first shots were fired by Thirteen and then by Twelve, he was enlisted almost immediately. He was followed by his brothers Valens and Otho.

Jovian rose up the ranks within the years of the war achieving a rank of sergeant at the end of the Rebellion and the surrendering as well as the destruction of Thirteen. His father, an already well-established Peacekeeper of his time was proud of Jovian, despite his constant fears that he might lose his boy. His mother stayed at home, taking care of the young Fossil as well as their youngest sister at the time, Electrum underneath their house, in a bunker that Achilles himself had built.

Jovian continued his soldier duties and when Peacekeepers became established during the Dark Days he had earned his honorary membership alongside Valens and Otho. Their father had declined the offer and instead retired to become the village leader of sorts.

Valens came next and much like his brother, he enlisted for the army at the start of the Rebellion, at the age of only 18, the boy rose up the ranks and aided in the war of Seven, teaming up with the Capitol soldiers to force Seven into surrender. He was described as fearsome in battle but tender at heart, he cared for his fellow soldiers and although he didn't rise the ranks like his brothers he still earned an honorary title of Peacekeeper and continues to do his duties as a Peacekeeper in Seven.

Otho was fearless in battle and strict to his squad mates. He assisted in the war of Eight, where he singlehandedly killed over twenty rebels as a sniper. He would later kill more during this war that would eventually bend the district back to Capitol rule. With that alone he rose up as a specialist sergeant, he was a brilliant strategist and would also gain an honorary role of Peacekeeper.

Let's talk about his sisters first.

Electrum was a spunky child, growing up with four brothers seemed to have toughened her up a bit. She would grow up a tomboy, she loved to fight with the other girls. Something that the First victor, Leroy, found somewhat amusing. The man regularly tours the villages and once he saw Electrum scrap with one of the girls, he knew he just had to convince the girl to do something.

At first, he didn't know that Electrum as well as the equally as scrappy, yet clever Silica were Fossil's siblings but as Fossil appear to tell them to stay away from the man, he knew well that he had to have both Electrum and Silica part of his facility. What is this facility? I guess it will be talked about later in other postings. Long story short, this facility that they had both joined in secret spelled bad things for the Mazon sisters.

Fossil grew up in the war, he feared dying but his mother had soothed him throughout it all as they hid in the bunker underneath their house. He wasn't allowed outside, not until the war had finished to which his mother would not give when it would end. He spent his days reading and listening to the radio; updating the deaths each day, thinking he would lose his brothers and his father. He wished every day that the war would end and by the time he would turn eleven he rejoiced with his mother as they vacated the bunker and house to sunlight and a calm and serene quietness, despite the wreck of the village he once lived in. He would later find out that Thirteen had surrendered but the Capitol, not one to take any chances, had instated the Hunger Games.

At first, he was angry, angry at the Capitol as he saw two children walk up the stage as they are whisked away into the Capitol. He wasn't even happy when his youngest sister, Silica, was born. He was upset and scared that one of these years he would be reaped and would have to end up in the Capitol and would be killed.

* * *

 _Number Three:_  
 _He was the odd one out of the Mazon family as he did not want to become a Peacekeeper or even remotely work in that type of area._

* * *

He began to work in one of the mines to help rebuild his village, and at the age of sixteen, he had his first crush. Then he watched as she was ripped away from his grasp and reports of her dying in the Games ended with the fear coming back.

Still he continued to work in the mines to help rebuild his village to what it is now today. The heartbreak from his one crush was enough to isolate himself in his work. It was speculated by his brothers that he worked harder than most in the mine, but Fossil had always been modest, and said he put in the same amount of work as others in the mine.

For the rest of his years leading up to his eighteenth birthday, he had forgotten about the Games. The hysteria and fear eventually faded as he grew older, he had friends that were reaped and never returned.

He was shocked when his name was called out, the nervousness came back. His mother wept for what felt like forever when they came to visit him the Justice Building. Otho and Valens were away on their posts. His sisters wished him good luck, his father held his weeping mother. Jovian, clasped both his shoulders, looked him directly in the eyes, the same as his own, a lighter shade of brown. He told him to come home and that stuck with him throughout his entire time at the Capitol.

* * *

 _Number Four:_  
 _He wasn't the most popular tribute of his Games._

* * *

That honour went to the beautiful pair from One. Patek Graff and Phyllis Vivienne. The pair were gorgeous compared to the Twos and even the Fours at the time. The trend would continue until the modern era of the Games. Fossil thought he would have been at least be in favour of the Capitol considering his mentors were Leroy, the first ever victor, and Drusus, the first ever volunteer, but the golden duo seemed to have shaded his popularity.

It was safe to say that he was the less popular out of all the tributes that year. Something that he didn't care or didn't mind in the slightest. It did somewhat annoy Leroy though as he could remember pacing in the train cart over to the Capitol. He was talking about betting, how his odds to win was less in comparison to the One tributes.

He just sighed to himself as he learned all he needed to do in the arena through Drusus, as he clearly was not going to get any help from Leroy, who seemed way too concerned over money than the safety of his own tributes.

The popularity of the One tributes prior to the arena was all he heard, and, in all honesty, he was fed up with it all. Come the arena, popularity didn't help the One tributes, either Patek or Phyllis attain the victory they seemed to have been promised. The residence of the tributes seemed to have improved, from when Drusus and Leroy's time; they were given their own accommodation for the next three days before the arena. The television within the residence all had tabloids and news outlets reporting the One victors.

Drusus told him to pay it no mind as he was sure he was going to win. His strategy planned way before arriving in the Capitol.

* * *

 _Number Five:_  
 _He would only kill a total of two tributes in the arena._

* * *

The most kills came from the One pair amounting to a total of six between the two of them. The rest were either killed by the arena itself. Someone had planned for this year's addition to the colosseum to include hidden traps. Some near the start of each tributes whilst others closer to maces and swords that littered the arena. Fossil watched as his own district partner tried to pick up a sword but was launched into the gaping hole that was still present. The colosseum arena became even more dangerous.

He had narrowly avoided the traps, mostly through luck and by testing each one with the sword and mace he had picked up close to him. He would eventually manage to kill his first tribute in the Games during the final three.

It was him and the One tributes.

They had jeered and scorned him. He paid them no mind, he just focused on what his brother had told him just before being whisked away into the Capitol. He had to get home to see his mother and father, his sisters. Back to his own village, the one he helped repair and build.

He killed the boy first, a stab through the chest after playing defensively against his mace. It was clear that although the boy was handsome and charismatic, he was not as strong as the boy that had spent years in the mine. He died, and his district partner attacked next. He wasn't proud of it but the mace that collided through her chest had brought great joy on his face. Not because he had killed her, but because he knew he would be coming home.

He collapsed beside the two bodies of the once beautiful angels of One, now dead by his own weapons. He began to get teary eyed as he started to cry.

* * *

 _Number Six:_  
 _His Victory Tour was well received by the Capitol and by some of the districts too._

* * *

He had killed no one other than the One tributes and so the other districts had no qualms, they did rather prefer one of their own to come back but that couldn't be helped. The arena this year was relentless and unforgiving.

Twelve had clapped for him. The first for someone from Two and the last to ever get an applause until they eventually get their own victor. They had all collectively thought that by only killing two tributes in the arena, that meant that he was rebelling against the Capitol. In fact, he was trying not to die from the endless traps he had seemed to encounter. He could remember the both Twelve tributes caught in traps and their screams still fresh in his mind. He thanked the district for the applause

Eleven stood there stoically as he started his speech. No one looked him in the eye, or rather they looked but with blank stares, as if they were there but wasn't at the same time. The whole square was quiet except for the calling of the birds and his voice as it reverberates throughout every person.

Ten was much the same, although they seemed to pay attention to him a lot more. Nothing else and nothing more. They had no victors still and not of their tributes ever came close to victory yet the hopeful nature in their eyes is what differentiated them from Eleven.

Nine's golden fields on the horizon is beautiful, most of the people in Nine are still rejoicing from their only victor: Adlay Durum. A year older than him, Adlay greeted Fossil and told him that victory is not all what it seems. He introduced him to his mother who only had a look of worry for his son more than anything, visiting Nine had only increased Fossil's yearning for his family.

Eight seemed to scorn him, even though they gave no reaction. The way their eyes drill into him with every word spoken. They too had no victors, no one to celebrate whilst his own district had gained another. Fossil was happy to have left Eight, and he would not come back to this district for another few years.

Seven applauded him, much like Twelve, their victor was still Thomas; who looked worse for wear. He seemed detached and as he introduced Fossil to his only living relative, his father, he disappeared, and would not be present until the end of his visit to Seven.

Six felt more suffocating than Eight. He could tell that this district was poor, maybe the poorest so far. The malnourished look on their faces along with their mottled skin unsettled Fossil throughout his speech and he too could not wait to get out while he still could.

Five was a different affair, despite not having their very own victor, the people of Five were happy. He saw the great nuclear plants on the horizon, and their solar and wind farms just beside it. The sun shone high in the sky and everything seemed serene in this district.

Four was much the same, the sun shining in the sky masked the uneasiness of the district. Their faces plastered with fake smiles as none had applauded after his speech. They would not rejoice, not until the following year where they would gain their very first victor.

Three seemed dark, the clouds of smog rose high into the sky from factories. The cracked and soot covered buildings seemed like it could crumble at any minute, yet the people of Three remained stoic, as if death itself is more welcoming than listening to his own speech about unity and peace from the Hunger Games.

One had scorned him, not only was Patek Graff from one of the prominent families of One, Phyllis was set to marry Armani Overbrooke too. The crowds all booed and jeered at him, he didn't even get a chance to finish his speech as he was rushed away by Peacekeepers when things began to get thrown at his direction. Jasper Alcott had met up with him after and congratulated him on his win, he liked how he made two of the so called 'Great Houses' of One upset.

The Capitol loved him, everyone one of the victors were well loved but nevertheless he was well loved. His interview with Phineus Keenzest went greatly, and whomever styled Fossil made him look attractive enough to make even the oldest of Capitol women swoon from his words and looks.

But nothing compared to a hero's welcome back in Two. His whole village celebrated his return home. His mother stopped crying from anguish but instead of joy as she hugged her boy once more. His sisters look up to him with proud eyes, his brother returned home to congratulate him, and his father had given him a pat on the back as he looked at him with pride.

There was nothing that compared to this moment, and that would be the last time he would be truly happy.

* * *

 _Number Seven:_  
 _His sisters would both die in the Hunger Games._

* * *

It won't be because he wanted them to, far from it. Electrum and Silica both left Village Alpha and come to Leroy's home back in the Victor's Village. Fossil was hardly in his own home in the Victor's Village and would later discover that both his sisters would be training for the Games under Leroy's guidance.

He was furious, he had confronted the older man, but he was shut down by Drusus, who somewhat stayed loyal to Leroy despite him basically kidnapping his own sisters. This never stopped Electrum and Silica, and both would end up volunteering when they both turned eighteen.

However, they would die terrible deaths in the arena. Electrum with an arrow to the heart courtesy of the One boy and Silica would fall to her death from a tower. He would mentor them both but alas he could not save them. He spent the rest of his life forever atoning for his sins, he stopped visiting his parents in fear that they would be disappointed by not helping his sisters enough.

That's when he stopped becoming truly happy.

* * *

 _Number Eight:_  
 _He would have a deep hatred for the future victors: Maybelle Davis and Rolex Parker._

* * *

Considering he couldn't save his sisters during their Games, and the fact that Leroy was already on his shit list, Fossil would develop an enmity towards the Ten and Three victors. He would actively tell his tributes to always go for Three and Ten tributes.

No one knows if he ever reconciled with both Maybelle and Rolex but if a Three or a Ten tribute dies at the hands of a Two tribute then you better believe that Fossil had instructed them to do so.

* * *

 _Number Nine:_  
 _He would later find the School of Secutor, after the 35th Hunger Games._

* * *

It is a school for training tributes that uses relaxed tactics and more defensive tactics. There were even talks that he trained some recruits as spies for the district as well as the Capitol, but those are just rumours.

The school is in Village Alpha, deep into the abandoned mine. Fossil had purchased it from the district with his own money and at first, he had used it to just train and relieve anger. He had renovated it to look like a building that would go deep underground, some say it's endless and the recruits that wind up here are sworn to secrecy.

Fossil accepts all kinds of recruits but especially he accepts does that put in hard work, but his school also accepts those that are homeless, and orphaned either from families or just outcasts in general. The speciality of defensive tactics isn't as successful in the Games, but most would gain valuable skills in the mines to be able to make a living in the other mines of Two.

* * *

 _Number Ten:  
_ Fossil Mazon would end up dying at the age of eighty-five.

* * *

The Victors Purge was an event in Panem that captured all the victors from each district with the intent of eliminating them all. Fossil Mazon, being one of the oldest victors he was unable to escape in time. He was protected by alumni of Secutor but ultimately, they all died, eliminated during the 75th Hunger Games, one that shook Panem to the core.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Valentino's  
Valentino's  
Second Day of Training; 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

" _Wow."_

 _That was all Cassandra could say as she sits across from me. I looked away from the screen and at her and raised my eyebrow. She was speechless but then she smiled. All she could do was clap at my list and information, as if she was a proud mother._

" _I mean," she whistles. "That was brilliant, you really told his story and introduced new elements. The Victors Purge? I mean I want to know what that is all about."_

" _I don't have a lot of info on it." I say shaking my head and then scratching the back of my head. "That's why I still need your help."_

" _You'll get my help, as much as I am able, but I think they're on to me."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _There are times where I feel like I'm being watched. Not listened to, thank God, but followed sometimes."_

 _I didn't know what to think about that. I hope Cassandra can stay safe, she knew the dangers going into researching previous victors. Some of the victors had clear views against the Capitol. I don't want people to think I'm a rebel._

 _I'd like to think of myself as an historian. No information should be kept from the public, rebellious act or not people should be made to think. Cassandra looks at me with my eyebrows furrowed. She just sighs and starts towards the door._

" _I'm need to go," she tells me. "You're doing a good job, honey. Keep up the good work and I'll do my part."_

" _Thank you, Cassandra."_

" _Don't thank me," she says. "Just sponsor my tributes."_

 _With that she winks at me and blows a kiss. I follow after her and see that the club is now full of people. Cassandra saunters off to potential sponsors and she soon disappears within the crowd. There's no telling when I'll next see her, possibly if her tributes win but I doubt I'll see her here anytime soon._


	9. Tide Seaworth

_**From the Diary of Tide Seaworth, Victor of the Eight Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _ **June 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
Train to the Capitol  
Ninth Hunger Games  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _Dear Diary,_

 _Today was the Reaping but that goes by like a blur, all of Four looked at me at that stage like I was their saviour. I am nothing like what they think I should be. There's hope in their eyes now, one that hopefully rivals those of One and Two. I don't know. I'm scared._

 _I relied heavily on Serena back then but now that she was free from all of these I have no one. Dinner was a silent affair between my tributes and me. It's not like I wanted them to stay silent, I spent more time thinking rather than talking and already I've disappointed them._

 _I can never compare myself to Serena at this point. She was great, she helped me through so much anxiety. It's like she was a kind mother more than what some of the people have been saying about her. How she had killed more people than the current victors combined during the war. She didn't look like she would do that. What I saw was a kind-hearted woman that helped her tributes before they ultimately died in the Hunger Games._

 _Only I was that one exception._

 _I'm currently hiding in my room, it's dark, save for the lamp at my desk. The train ride shouldn't take that long. I'm just writing down my thoughts and feelings, like what Serena told me before I left earlier this afternoon. She told me to stay calm and be myself. This is me being myself, hiding away from my responsibilities._

 _Tide Seaworth,  
Hoping it Gets Better_

* * *

 _ **June 26**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
Train to the Capitol  
Ninth Hunger Games  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _This morning felt different._

 _I sat at the table and both of my tributes began talking. It's like a switch was flicked the other night and now they all want to talk about what to expect in the Games. I felt so overwhelmed that I had to leave for a few minutes before coming back all calm and composed. They had apologised but I said it was not a big deal. I told them I was overwhelmed is all._

 _The tributes as the newest victor were both interesting._

 _Leilani was supposedly the best swimmer in her whole class back home in Four. She was so proud about it that I couldn't help but smile. She talked for hours after that and as we pulled over at the Capitol train station I could tell she got nervous, she wouldn't let go of my arm._

 _Davy was different, he had that edge about him that I could tell can win. He told me very little but from what I could gather he was orphaned at the age of eight. He grew up in the streets of Four and stole bread and food to help himself. He's tough and I know I shouldn't judge but I think Davy has a better chance of surviving than Leilani does._

* * *

 _ **June 27**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
Capitol  
Ninth Hunger Games  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _Today is a rest day, well sort of._

 _The Capitol has become a lot more lenient_ _towards it's tributes. They've supplied us with an apartment complex, as oppose to what Drusus had described as prison cells back during his Games. The place isn't much: kitchen, living room, bedrooms each. Nothing fancy, although fancier than what we have back in Four._

 _We sat down at the dinner table. This was to give the two of my tributes a chance to answer questions. Questions I wasn't prepared for. I answered them all, with both the nervousness and the panic I've had since yesterday, but I tried to be strong for them._

 _They asked me what it was like to kill someone. Terrible, awful, sickening is what I wanted to say but all that came out of my mind was that it's over before you know it. I watched the tributes I killed as their lives escape from their eyes, the Three boy and the Five girl both died from the spear I took closer to where I started._

 _Leilani and Davy looked at me with disgust after my answer, like I enjoyed the killing but in truth I didn't. I never wanted to do it but if I didn't then surely, I would have been on the receiving end of the pointy weapons, it was kill or be killed._

 _The Seven and Nine boy though died by my hands, not by spear. I remembered when the colosseum that had been present for so many years now flooded with water, my district partner died way before it happened. It swept away both the dead and the living and being from Four I was destined to win. Who knows if that was a fluke or not, but I can remember vividly how cold the water felt and how the Nine and Seven boy struggled as I pulled them down into the watery depths until I was sure they were dead._

* * *

 _ **June 30**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
District Four, Victor's Village  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _There's no words to describe how I feel right now._

 _Which defeats the purpose of this diary entry. Serena told me to start a diary to document my feelings as a mentor but there's nothing to say. I feel defeated. Leilani and Davy would not be my first deaths, I know that, but I just feel so down._

* * *

 _ **July 4**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
District Four, Beach Close to the Village  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _I think I'm ready to pour out my feelings._

 _After Flash Gladstone of One had killed the last person, the boy from Two, I felt utterly defeated._

 _Leilani and Davy miraculously survived the Bloodbath, or that's what Packard Lee, the mentor of Three had told me beside him. It's different, I don't remember there being a Bloodbath in my Games, but I guess there was one. I don't know what they've done but they did it._

 _However, the colosseum was muddy from when my arena flooded, and they seemed to have kept everything else too. I watched as both Leilani and Davy trudged their way into the middle of the arena for the sole weapon, a Trident, stuck on the muddy ground. The hole in the centre of the arena was filled with water, debris and other things._

 _Flash made it first, his stronger body and tall figure had managed to beat even his district partner and the Two girl and boy. Then all hell broke loose as all I could do was watch the tributes flee the boy that now held the trident._

 _Leilani was impaled by the trident almost immediately. He would not get another kill until later as he tries to pry the weapon from Leilani's dead body. I don't really want to get into the gruesome kills this boy had done but all I know is that Davy made it to the final eight._

 _Although he was killed by the boy from Two who had killed a lot of tributes purely from punching and kicking as well as using his environment. It was gruesome._

 _Overall, I feel so guilty. Guilty that I couldn't take one of them home and guilty that I could not give them any more advice than I could…_

* * *

 _ **July 15**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
District Four, Victor's Village  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _It's lonely here._

 _My parents refused to live here. They don't like what I've become, no one liked what I did. They just don't understand me. They don't know what it's like to kill just so you could live. They don't know what it's like to mentor children just so they could die._

 _I don't know what I feel about mentoring. Nothing I suppose, it's just a job now, something to do every year until the day I die or until I get old enough for someone else to takeover. There's no sense of pride for trusting your children to someone only to watch them get killed._

 _I don't miss it nor would I look forward to it._

* * *

 _ **December 12**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
District Four, Victor's Village  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _I've now formally met Flash Gladstone. A couple of things I want to note down:_

 _He's full of it. He acted like he was better than me, like he was well kept and clean from the horrors of the Games but I could see through him. He was nervous, like I was during my Victory Tour. I will have to say that he acts the same as Balas and Jasper. They're all full of it._

 _Secondly, he didn't even apologise for the kills he made for the Games, I guess this contributes to the first point but he never even looked apologetically. Maybe he did and I just can't read his face properly but I just want to say that he never apologised to myself or Leilani's family._

 _Nevertheless, I wanted to take the high road and I congratulated him._

 _I definitely dislike him…_

* * *

 _ **June 24**_ _ **th**_ _ **2XXX  
District Four  
Reaping for 35**_ _ **th**_ _ **Hunger Games  
Tide Seaworth**_

 _Dear Diary,_

 _It's been a long time huh?_

 _Sorry I haven't been writing lately but I know it's for the best. Things didn't get better after that entry, the next couple of Hunger Games after the Ninth have changed dramatically. The arenas became a lot more grandiose than an ordinary colosseum._

 _I've managed to bring back a lot of my tributes._

 _It's not all happy endings though. It's about you personally, diary. I haven't opened an entry with 'Dear Diary' in a while because as I continually write on it I keep imagining the only person that believed me and that is you Serena._

 _So, all my feelings that I wrote in this diary, and on this final diary entry it's how I would want to say to you. I know since becoming a victor I rarely saw you if any, maybe when we pass by the markets of Four but nowhere else. You've never visited, I don't suppose you would want to._

 _But like I've mentioned before, today is not all about my happy ending._

 _Today was your funeral._

 _No one quite knew how you died but I only found out when there was a letter with my address and name on it arrived at my house. I opened it up and saw it was from you with a sentence saying 'Thank You' on it._

 _I stood there, alone, as I watched your body drift on a boat towards the open sea. I watched as the flaming arrow was fired from a bow and set it alight. It was beautiful._

 _I said it once and I'll say it again, you didn't deserve what you had to go through. You were only fighting for what was right and much like myself you were fighting to survive. So, thank you, Serena, for believing in me and for giving me the courage to fight through these demons._

 _Much Regards,  
Tide Seaworth_

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Cade's Apartment, Capitol  
Day Five of 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

"Are you crying?" The only reason I ask is because the man in front of me is bawling like a baby.

"N-No." He tells me and looks away from me and onto the TV screen that's showing replays of the events of the Games.

Lincoln looks tough, and he definitely has killed a few people in his time, but I've never seen him display such emotions. It's what I would call, raw emotions. Who knew that the very first Four victor would end up breaking the toughest man I knew? He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks at the diary that was in my hands.

It was tattered and nearly falling to bits, weathered by the salty air from Four itself. I had asked how Lincoln had come across from it and all he said was that a tour through district Four had procured a couple of odd things when he began to ask the old antique shops.

I suspect that he stole it from one of the houses in the Victor's Village there but I didn't say anything. Like I said, he was a very tough and intimidating man.

"Look, if you're just going to cry about Tide then you should go home."

"Okay, okay." He says. "Look it was just touching okay, jeez lighten up."

I didn't miss the roll of his eyes as he goes to fix his shirt. It's almost weird seeing him not wearing his Peacekeeper uniform, he told me it's his only day off. He's not one caught up on the Capitol fashion, although I suppose that's because he was born in district Six. He looks at me expectantly and I just raise my eyebrow.

"Tell me what happens next!"

"Fine." I sigh as I look at the other notes I made on Tide Seaworth. "Let's see, he goes on to mentor his very first victor: Arlo Venilia."

"When would that be?"

"Like, a couple of years after?"

"Then what?"

"Then Triton Strombus became a victor some time mentored by Tide as well."

"Wait Triton? As in the man that founded the famous Triton Academy back in Four?"

"Well…Tide founded the academy, he just took a back seat and became one of the teachers instead of being the one in charge. That didn't stop Triton from asking his former mentor for advice."

"Does he get a happy ending at least?"

"You know for a Peacekeeper you're somewhat an emotional anomaly." I tell him and I swear he was ready to punch me if he wanted to.

"I just like happy endings, okay?" He says exasperated.

"Let me see…"

I start flicking through my notes on the victor but nothing else comes up other than finding the academy where he seemed really happy; and just like on the last diary entry, there was no more to come. I didn't have the heart to tell Lincoln no so I just look at him and smiled.

He didn't seem to take it well but he just nodded. He stands and coughs, I can tell that tears are threatening to fall once more but he held it in. For a man that comes from Six he sure does like the Fours. Or maybe I'm just judging a book by its cover?

"I'll see you later," he just says before he shuts the door.

I'm left alone in my apartment; the noise silent save for the TV blaring the highlights of the Games. I look down at the diary again, feeling its coarse pages in my hands. What I gathered from the research I got on Tide is that he would end up suffering through a lot of panic attacks and although it would get better as he ages, there's some accounts from other victors of the meek Tide Seaworth that hated the attention he got. Still, the Tide Seaworth I'm going to choose to remember is the one that is full of never ending belief in his tribute and one that would strive to achieve greatness for them.


	10. Flash Gladstone

_**President Laomedes Augustus  
President's Mansion, Capitol  
A week after the Ninth Hunger Games**_

* * *

The clouds are nowhere to be seen, the calm air blows soft breezes through the shrubs and flowers of the garden, the scent sweet like honey. The sun is just right, only touching the skin lightly like a warm blanket and nothing more. He could hear the melody of birds as they tweet and sing their song.

He takes a sip of coffee, disliking the taste and he adds two more sugar cubes into his mug. He stirs slowly and looks at his beautiful garden. Laomedes is truly living the life of peace. He was nervous and dare he even think scared at the idea of the Hunger Games but now it's ingrained in the minds of everybody in Panem. He watched his wife as she cuts a few flowers before going back to him. A kiss to the cheek conveys more love than words could ever give.

"What's wrong?" She says placing the flowers into the glass vase in the middle of the circular garden table. "You look unhappy, are you not satisfied with what you have amassed?"

"I am, it's just. We need the Hunger Games to be bigger." He says to her.

It's true, he had singlehandedly pacified the districts and was successful in eliminating the rebellious district Thirteen in the process. No other President in the history of Panem had successfully united the districts, although he knew that the districts were not truly pacified. Unrest and rebels still ran rampant in certain districts. Sacrificing their children certainly didn't help either but they should be grateful that it's only two per year, at least.

He was a benevolent President, or that's what he liked to think. District One and Two have now enjoyed victory along with Seven, Nine and Four. Their districts are prospering with the abundance of food he had given them. Reports of the starving in these districts are going down.

"It's the ratings isn't it?" Hera, his wife, asked him as she sipped her own tea, admiring the garden.

"Yes!" Laomedes declared disturbing the serene scene. "It's not televised, not the actual Games itself, it's only filmed, and mass produced into the districts. Only certain events are televised, I think we need this to be mandatory."

His wife seemed to think for a bit before she lets her teacup down on the table. She takes a bite out of her cake before looking at the cloudless sky. She enjoyed the warmth and Laomedes looks at her as if waiting for whatever it is she was about to say.

"What you need is a team," she started. "A team that can effectively do all that for you."

"Will you be that team?"

"Me?" She laughed at his face. "I came up with the colosseum, I don't want to be involved any more than that, darling. You need to hire someone for that mantle. That I'll help out in."

Laomedes stroked his greying beard, he took a sip of coffee as he thought of how he was going to advertise this position. He needed to iron out the creases of this occupation, and how he was going to somewhat convince them into slaughtering children year after year.

"We need to get started then."

"Started on what?"

"Advertising my dear Hera."

With that Laomedes headed back inside his mansion, leaving his wife alone in the calm breeze and soothing aroma of the garden. He didn't even bother finishing his coffee, from now on he would be free of the burden of planning a Hunger Games every year.

* * *

 _ **Rexton Price  
President's Mansion, Capitol  
Ninth Hunger Games' Victory Tour**_

* * *

The night air cooled his nerves.

He was all alone in the garden, the celebration for Flash Gladstone's victory was well underway. He disliked parties, let alone socialising but then again why was he picked to become this new secret project that the President had advertised?

He didn't want to apply at first, his best friend at the time coerced him to do it. Completing two degrees from the prestigious Capitol University had helped him get the edge to this secret project. He had asked questions, sure, but all came out vague.

Rexton Price was certainly lucky to be given an opportunity but then again, he didn't know how lucky he was in the first place. He sighed, the champagne he was handed at the start of the party still in his hand, barely drunk. Being alone in the cool wintry air is what he liked the most, but he can't help the feeling of dread enter him as questions begin to flood his head again.

Why was he picked? Is there something going on? Will he be able to live up to the expectations?

More questions he did not know the answers to. The guests inside were loud and obnoxious as they gorge and drink themselves to oblivion, President parties were wild, but he never knew they were going to be this wild. He excepted that from Club Valentino's but not the actual President.

Speaking of, he had seen President Augustus maybe once and no more. He wondered what had happened to the man. He wanted to speak to him, to ask him the same questions he had asked at the interview.

"Rexton Price?"

He turned around at the voice, it was a Peacekeeper. Dressed in white, standing up straight and looking imposing. He froze at first as he downed the champagne. He nodded his head slowly and he was asked to follow the man or woman, it was hard to tell in the dimly lit balcony of the mansion.

He was led away from the noise and the commotion; the constant chattering of the guests into a small hallway. All filled with portraits of various faces he could only remember as previous Presidents of Panem. The walls were white, almost creamy in colour, and the carpeted hallway equalled that. It's like he had walked into snow, fresh snow, almost untouched.

"This way please." The Peacekeeper stopped in front of the tall brown wooden door.

He marvels at the beauty of it all before it opened slowly, he could remember the inside of the President's office like it was yesterday. The brown wooden desk contrasts the stark white of the office. Even his bookshelves and the book themselves are white in colour.

The light is very dim, the moon doing most of the work at illuminating the room. His eyes quickly dart to the President sitting at his desk, his eyes look at him with what he can only describe as a mixture of pride and intimidation. His wife, Hera, stood by him dressed in a white ballgown. She nodded her head goes to leave for the party.

"Mr. Price." Augustus gestured for the seat in front of him. "Take a seat please, we have much to discuss."

He gulped, there's no other way to go but to follow the order, if he can even call it that. He takes his seat and waits expectantly at what the President is about to say.

"You were hired, let's see, almost four months ago now and yet you don't know why we hired you, is that accurate would you say?"

"Y-yes, sir." He says and Rexton cursed himself to speak more fluently, why was he nervous suddenly when earlier he was as calm as the night air?

"Well, I'm about to disclose to you what your new occupation would entail." He smiled, although it put chills within Rexton's whole body. "Let me start by saying congratulations again. Over three hundred applicants and you were chosen for the job; a dual degree in engineering _and_ architecture, how marvellous."

"Thank you, sir." That's all he could respond, he tried his best to fix his plain black tie around the white collar. All he wants to do is loosen it up a bit because he feels like he can't breathe. "I worked very hard to achieve those."

"I'm sure you did, but enough about that. The reason you were hired." He started as he pulled out a file from his drawer, Rexton could see the stamp marked 'classified' clearly on the brown folder.

He took the folder and he flicked through it casually, it displayed victors all the way back to Leroy and to the latest. Although it was just their pictures, there were more details about the arena more than anything and he could see the detailed plans and blueprints of the colosseum.

"Rexton Price, from this day forward, you will now oversee and organise the next Hunger Games and all future Games after that." He announced and Rexton's eyes seemed to bulge out of his sockets. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

He didn't want that calibre.

"It's-It's an honour, President Augustus."

"Good." He said. "Take the file, muse over the winners and weapons, I'll give you six months from now to come up with an arena."

"Yes, sir."

"And I don't want it to be a colosseum. I want this to be spontaneous and new, something that can cause the excitement in the Capitol but still put the fear in the districts. You got that."

"Yes, sir."

With that he took his leave. The brown 'classified' folder in his hands. He was led back into the ballroom by the same Peacekeeper. He was stopped by a few other people, some he recognised as important and others were just there to question why he was here. He guessed that his job is still in secret.

He made it outside of the mansion, the valet already with his car keys. He thanked the man as he moved his way down the limestone staircase he bumped into a man who seemed to curse him before apologising. Rexton didn't even notice him as he stumbled slowly, he was about to apologise when he realised it was none other than the victor himself: Flash Gladstone.

"Oh, shit, sorry man." He said as he stood up. "I didn't mean to be in the way, I just needed to get out of there."

"I know the feeling." He told him, he smiled, and the boy smiled sheepishly too. "Oh, hey congratulations on your win."

"Thanks."

"It must be such a great honour to be the third victor in your district."

"Yeah," he replied coolly. "I'm delighted, listen I'm going to go back. Balas and Jasper must be looking for me already, I've been gone too long."

"Okay, well it's nice meeting you. Oh, I'm Rexton Price, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you as well," he shook my hands before he traversed up the steps and disappeared behind the large door.

He thought him quite rude, but at the same time, the man, or maybe boy, looked conflicted as he mentioned the Games. His resolved stuttered for a moment but Rexton ignored it as he made it into his car, sleek and black, and carefully placed the brown folder on the passenger seat. He loosened his tie and took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

The planning process begins now.

* * *

He pushed the front door slowly, making sure not to disturb the sleep of his friend and roommate. The lights were all turned off, save for the lamp at the desk where he usually draws blueprints. He must have forgotten to turn it off on his way out, he was in the process of redesigning what was the tribute residence from his previous occupation.

Now that he had the prestigious title of 'Gamemaker' he now had no time for his previous job. He would have to phone the company to quit. The lights suddenly all turn on and his eyes flinch from the sudden invasion of his eyes.

"Well look who the cat dragged in!"

"Elbert!" Rexton all but screamed. "I was trying to be quiet for your sake."

"I wasn't even sleeping, you know I haven't been sleeping well lately." Elbert, his friend, best friend, scoffed as he moved his way to where Rexton stood, he couldn't help but grab the folder that was held in his hands too.

"Hey!" He goes to reach for it, but Elbert was already by the beaten down couch as he flicked through it.

"What is this? Blueprints of the Colosseum? Wait…" He started as he looked from the file to Rexton that still stood by his desk. "Is this your job now? Are you part of the Government now?"

"I don't know how much I can say, but I read the file and it said I could hire, or need to hire, people to help realise this arena."

"Arena? What are you talking about?" Elbert was confused as he flicked through the file once more.

"I'm a Gamemaker."

"That sounds stupid and made up."

"No! It's true!" Rexton defended as he rushed towards Elbert, taking the file as he sat beside the man, who flicked through the last pages of the file and showed his friend.

"'Hire as many people as you need to'" Elbert read aloud. "Wait. You're going to be in charge of the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that." Rexton looked at his friend sheepishly. "And I need you as my right-hand man."

"I'd be honoured to." Elbert said without hesitation.

It's no big surprise that Elbert was a big fan of the Hunger Games. He had lost family during the Rebellion as well as the Dark Days. He had watched some of the Games and he owned the discs of all the previous Games to date. Rexton, however, was impartial. He was orphaned at birth, his parents he did not bother looking for, there was no need to.

He met Elbert during their time at University. After the war and the Hunger Games were installed. President Laomedes made it free for anyone to attend university, the years of extravagance and ostentatiousness began the day Leroy Ramnes had won the very first Hunger Games.

"I met Flash Gladstone tonight." Rexton suddenly said.

"What!?" Elbert practically shouted in excitement. "You should have started with that instead of giving me a job, which I am grateful for by the way, but Flash Gladstone is way better! What was he like? Is he as good looking in real life?"

I don't really know how to answer those questions. I guess I could answer truthfully, the few minutes I interacted with him was like talking to an iceman, he seemed alright I suppose. He looked alright, a little worse for wear but he still had the same angelic features as the other two One victors.

"He's cool, and yes he's good looking, I suppose." I answer back, I'm sure he would meet up with victors in the future. "Alright, we don't have time to talk about victors, we need to plan this event."

* * *

 _ **President Laomedes Augustus  
Newly Designed Tribute Centre, Capitol  
A few weeks before the Tenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

"Well look at this place!"

President Augustus wanders the pristine white control room of the tribute centre, the screens are all turned off for now, and there are a few workers fixing last minute computers and machines. The room is an oval shape, computers and desks ran the whole length of the room. There's only one exit and that's where he had entered.

The entrance leads directly to the main desk, elevated from the rest of the computers. He overlooks the rest of the other Gamemakers, Rexton Price would therefore be the Head of all the other Gamemakers.

"Now where is my Head Gamemaker anyhow?" He announced to no one in particular.

And as if on cue, the very stressed and very messy Rexton Price had stumbled in, his suit a dishevelled mess and he could tell that he had not had anything to eat. He was followed by his Vice-Head, someone he did not know of but trusted that Rexton would pick the right people for the job.

"President Augustus!" He seemed to be surprised despite giving the man several notices of his visit. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm just here to check up on you, the Hunger Games starts next week. I hope what you have in store for the whole of Panem is worth all the money I had poured in."

"It will, sir." He reassured him. "I know it will, there are a few surprises in store to celebrate a decade of the Games. I think you're going to like it, and I have something that will generate money into the Capitol funds also, this idea was given unto me by my trusty Vice-Head, Elbert Korando."

"Very good. Now take me a tour through this control room of yours."

"Very well, if you follow me to the master control, AKA my desk." He led Laomedes through to the desk. "From here I can see all the statistics of the tributes, the big screen directly in front of us all will follow all twenty-four tributes, even if they stay in groups."

"And this will be televised?"

"It will be sir, mandatory and all!" Elbert answered from behind Rexton. "We have taken the liberty of attaching a few thousand cameras in the arena, used the latest in cloaking devices for other cameras and employed drones to follow the tributes, wherever they may be in the arena."

"Speaking of," Laomedes turns towards Rexton. "The arena, what will it be this year?"

"I feel that it should be a surprise," Rexton announced, "It will surely help build up the excitement if the President himself does not even know of the arena."

"I understand that, dare I say I am excited myself!" Laomedes replied. "Any other surprises?"

"A few in the works, there is a separate room where the mentors sit and watch their tributes, we have employed a system where the mentors can help out their tributes in the arena. A sort of sponsor system if you'd like."

"And how does this work?"

"Our citizens of Panem will be able to sponsor their favourite tributes, we have selected several survival items as well as high-priced weapons as sponsors, their mentors can therefore ask us, the Gamemakers, to send their tributes what they think they need." Elbert began to explain and Rexton joined in.

"For example, you want to sponsor the Two boy, you liked him from the Reapings, which is also now televised, and you give your money through the national exchange of the Capitol Central Bank. The money accumulates until the Games begin, which their mentors can therefore use when the tributes are in the arena."

"I like it, so this gives the other districts a chance at winning, which should hopefully quell their rebellious tendencies."

"There aren't still rebels within districts, is that right, sir?" Elbert asked and Laomedes can only respond with a nod. "I see."

He couldn't help but see the man scrunch up his hands as he tried to supress his anger a little. He sighed, letting all the bad air out as he looked forward again with a straight face. Rexton looked to his friend before he continued.

"We have also hired top Capitol stylists and designers and assigned them to help tributes look a little more appealing. We are also going to use the Colosseum as a stadium, for interviews-"

"Interviews?" Laomedes asked.

"Interviews." Elbert confirmed, finally relaxing back. "Statistics tells us that the Capitol loved the end of the Games interviews, so we had the idea of putting it at the front. The stylists will provide the tributes with the lavish lifestyle they could have and also look appealing for the Capitol, they can therefore garner sponsors for themselves."

"Fabulous. Dare I say, again, that I am excited for these Games. Well I'll leave you fine duo. I simply cannot wait for the Games to start now."

"Neither can we."

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Club Valentino  
Last Day of 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _Who would have thought that going through it alone in the Hunger Games had its own perks? Julia Aquilla of Two had used her extensive training from the Nut, the Peacekeeper regiment, to win the Games. It was the last day of the Games, there were only two people left at this point._

 _But enough about her, Cassandra had just walked into my office, who looked furious, and slammed what seemed to be her phone on the oaken desk. I had a right mind to tell her off, but I can see she wasn't in the mood for playful banter._

" _How may I help you Ms. King?"_

" _I read your newest post." She said to me._

" _What post?"_

" _On Flash Gladstone? Which showed very little of him by the way. It's all about this Rexton Price."_

" _There wasn't much to talk about Flash."_

" _So, you just shafted him and talked about this Rexton person?"_

" _Well I can tell you that his sister never joined the Hunger Games and would go on to marry someone and make more Gladstone legacies that would certainly die in the Games, or whatever."_

" _You sound bitter." Cassandra teases but she still looked furious._

" _It's just that Flash Gladstone sounded more different from the earlier accounts, but something changed, and I couldn't find out why." I said exasperated._

" _Maybe there's going to be more when we uncover the other victor's stories, look what you're doing is great." Cassandra tells me. "Freedom of information is good. The current President had redacted all information from the people, so it's your job to spread that to the masses."_

" _Yeah, yeah." I just say and take a swig of the whiskey I was nursing prior to Cassandra walking in. "Cabel Link is already working really hard for me, allowing me to publish these articles without the Capitol government tracking me down."_

" _And that's why you cannot waste this opportunity."_

 _Cassandra walks away from me, she doesn't say anything else as she disappears behind the doorway into the loud club scene. The club is full, all anticipating Julia Aquilla's victory. Her only opponent being the Six boy, who seemed unstable from the very start._

 _I need to start researching about this so called 'special first decade Hunger Games'._


	11. Bergamot Musambi

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Cade's Apartment, Capitol  
Two weeks after 81st Hunger Games**_

* * *

"Someone's calling you again…"

Lincoln hands me my phone and I see that it's my brother, he's been trying to get a hold of me for weeks now. I've never really wanted to hang out after Julia Aquilla had won the Games. He had a job at the Capitol broadcasting station now, why he needs to phone me is beyond me.

I let the phone ring and vibrate until it goes silent. Placing it on the coffee table, I turn to look at the television. Lincoln suddenly appeared at my doorstep maybe two or three hours ago now. He's just sitting beside me, stuffing his face with popcorn that I know for sure I was saving for later. He looks me in the eye and grins, like a stupid child, before stuffing his face once more with popcorn.

"You going to pop it in or are we just going to watch trashy Capitol TV?"

"I was going to, but you came over and I don't want another sob fest." I tell him, and he glares at me but softened up after.

"I'm not going to cry this time, this one should be exciting for sure."

"How is that?"

"Dude, it's the actual Hunger Games now, no more colosseum, this one is legit."

"You should speak more eloquently." I tell him, and he just sighs and throws popcorn my way. "Hey!"

"I'm from Six, eloquence isn't high up on our priority list."

"How you became a Peacekeeper is beyond me." I tell him.

"It's the muscles and the face." He says back, and I just scoff. "Whatever, man, just put the disc in."

"Can I ask how you got this disc?" I ask him.

"You can, but what's the fun in telling you?" He sticks out his tongue and I make an annoyed face as I stand and place the disc inside the player, pressing play before I return to the couch.

The TV flickers for a bit before showing the Capitol symbol, the quality was poor, but it would have been back then, before they had invented all this fancy hi-tech stuff. I glance to my side to see that Lincoln is transfixed on the screen.

I don't know a lot about him, all I know is that I'm paying him money to procure me stuff like this CD or that journal. I know he's from Six, but not much else. For a peacekeeper he's very corruptible, I guess I would take the money too in his situation. I would reckon that Six wouldn't have a lot of places to make a proper living.

He crunches on the popcorn some more as I turn to watch whatever was inside the CD. The camera pans into what was once the colosseum, showing the audience as they surround the stage. It's been heavily revamped from an arena to a stage. There's two seats atop the glowing white stage. I couldn't help but admire the colosseum; all evidence of the previous Games from the second to the ninth had been erased. It makes you wonder how fast and efficient the Capitol can work when they don't want something shown anymore.

" _Hello Ladies and Gentlemen!"_

Phineus Keenzest, the very first Master of Ceremonies burst into the scene, seemingly appearing out of thin air. His bright smile can be seen from miles away and the coloured hair, a combination or green and yellow, stood out from the white lit up stage. I hear Lincoln beside me snicker and I roll my eyes, absolute child.

"When do you think this was?" I ask Lincoln and he shushes me; I then say quietly "Well that was rude."

"I heard that, I'm going to reckon it's after the Tenth Games."

"How would you know that?" I ask him.

"The banners people are holding," he takes the remote from the coffee table and pauses the screen; he then continues to point at different banners. "See there, and there."

"I look closer and see banners containing the words 'congrats' and pictures of the victor."

"What's the victor's name again?" Lincoln asked.

"Bergamot Musambi." I tell him, matter-of-factly. "His Games made history."

"I'm sure it did."

We stayed in comfortable silence watching what would have been the victor's interview. Phineus introduces the newly crowned victor as he rose up from the stage, which seems to panic him slowly before gaining his composure. He took a seat and the Master of Ceremonies began by congratulating the boy. He makes a shy 'thank you' but it was drowned out by the roaring fans and screaming girls.

" _Now, young Bergamot, as tradition we'll now watch the events of the arena."_

The camera pans from the two on the lone stage to the screen that covers an entire section of the Colosseum. Bergamot looks sad and nervous as well as hesitant to even look at the giant screen. The moment starts at the Reaping.

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Reaping**_

* * *

 _I've had this feeling, it's quite hard to explain but it's just there, in my stomach. Not quite butterflies but also not quite full-blown nausea either. My sisters have all told me that it's fine, that nothing will go wrong. My oldest, Felicia, has soothed me last night until I fell asleep._

 _So how come I'm at this line waiting to be clerked into the Square with the same feeling?_

 _Everything looks so different, certainly from last year and the year before that. The Justice Building is cleaner; the Peacekeeper presence has increased, what would have been a group of ten Peacekeepers trying to maintain some sort of control has multiplied to maybe twice or three times that. The other kids in the line were in awe of all the cameras too._

 _There's more of them too, before it was only one camera crew but now there's at least ten, all pointed at different angles. There's banners and streamers, trying to brighten up what would have been another morbid and grisly scene._

 _Our track record for the Hunger Games haven't been good, not quite One and Two with three victors each. Although I've heard, from working at the orchard, that Six and Eight were a lot worse off than us, which I found incredibly preposterous, there's nothing more worse than us._

 _The Peacekeeper official pricks my finger and I couldn't help but jerk, but she held my hand and pressed it down on the paper, she nods her head and I'm let in the Square. Felicia's already there, standing with her group of friends but I'm not about to say anything._

 _There's a couple of Peacekeepers within the Square, wandering and keeping every rowdy child in line; there's hardly any rowdy children, some are cowering in fear and others were so dazed and confused that they don't know how to feel._

 _Although this was a lot better now than a few years back. Imagine crying, screaming, shouting and a lot of violence. The First Hunger Games was exactly like that. My two eldest sisters: Charity and Celia, were both eligible for the Games when it first came about, and two Peacekeepers burst into our home and dragged them both into the Square. I can still hear my mum and dad shout and scream. My dad even punched a Peacekeeper on his way to rescue them both._

 _My dad disappeared the year after that._

 _It all levelled out once the district had realised that this will be an annual event, by the time the Fifth Hunger Games had come and gone, all hope was lost in everyone's eyes. They watch as their daughters and sons were reaped and then return in nothing but a plain white box._

 _One other thing that's new here is that crazy looking person sitting beside the mayor. It's quite hard to establish what she was supposed to be, but she looks like she was dressed as a tree. Her dress, brightly brown with stripes, and her hair a darker green with bits and pieces of fruits within them._

" _She looks like a walking and talking tree." Cried out someone in the seventeen sections; a few snickers follow._

" _I bet she sounds all high and mighty too."_

 _True enough she did. The mayor had already finished her speech, defeated look on her face as she sits down, and the walking tree takes the podium. She all but smiles at all of us before smiling at the camera._

" _I have noticed that the mayor did not introduce me," she says to us all. "My name is Kitty Seton, the current escort for District Eleven! How exciting right?"_

 _No one nods or even make a move as they begin to look scared. Instead of the mayor drawing from the two giant glass bowls on the stage there's this person. A Capitolite, someone alien, someone we don't know; she could be a spy for all we know._

" _Anyway," she coughs. "Let's see who the female tribute is going to be."_

 _She makes her way to one of the reaping bowls. Closer to the girl's section, she looks at us with a big grin and dips her finger. Lightly shuffling the top layer of the piles of paper before picking one. She makes a noise of content before taking it out and walking back to the microphone._

" _The female tribute for the Tenth Hunger Games is…" There's a pause and everyone's collective breath seems to hitch. "…Beatrice Stanley!"_

 _There's a scream, then followed by shouting. The Peacekeepers are already rushing towards the girl, two of them as they grab hold of her and all but drag her up the stage. She's crying now, her mother and father at the back of us are shouting and protesting._

" _She's thirteen! Have mercy! Please!"_

 _They can shout all they like, we hear it every year now. My friend's parents did it when he was reaped and my cousin before that. I look to the stage and see the escort makes her way to the other glass bowl. Her smile never faltering, she dips her hand quickly this time and picks out a singly white slip of paper._

" _The male tribute for the Tenth Hunger Games is…" another slow and agonising pause, this time not as quiet as the screaming from behind is still going. "…Bergamot Musambi!"_

 _Wait._

 _That's me._

 _I look back to see my mother fall to her knees, my sisters by her side as they too start to cry. I look to the girl's section to see my sister, hand on her mouth as tears start to fall. She's being consoled by her friends._

 _There's no one her to console me. I see a glimpse of white from the corner of my eye and then I begin to move. They try to grab my arm, but I them shake away. I'll make it to the stage without their help. I can see the eyes on me, a mixture of sadness and relief, relief that it's not them for the year._

 _My fists scrunch up into balls, my anger seems to rise the closer I get to the stage. I want to hit something, it's not fair. My mom already lost dad and now they'll lose me too? I hate this. The escort approaches me, and I move away from her, her face drops for a moment before she smiles again as she moves to stand between the crying Beatrice and the very angry me._

" _Your tributes this year everybody!" She shouts to the crowds. "May the odds be ever in your favour!"_

 _She turns to walk back into the Justice Building. Leaving behind the mess she had made without a care in the world._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Goodbyes**_

* * *

 _The crying never relented, my mother hugs me tightly as her tears cascade like waterfalls onto my shoulders. She rubs the short hairs of my head, as if trying to remember what they feel like. It's like she's already decided that I'm going to die. I don't blame her, my dad certainly did._

 _Felicia is standing closer to the door of the room and the furthest away from us, still in shock. Her face says it all, she's staring into space, tear stained face. Her curly dark hair is everywhere, like she was wracking her brain thinking. Her flowy flower dress lay still._

" _This can't be happening." She finally says taking a step forward. "I won't allow it."_

" _It's too late for that now," Charity says, always the straightforward of us Musambi siblings. "All we can do now is hope and pray for your return."_

 _That's if you all believe that I'll return home._

" _Of course, he will!" Celia says more than enthusiastically._

 _Mother had stopped crying, but her vice grip of a hug still makes it hard for me to breathe. I don't tell her to though, she may never see her only son again. So, I let her._

 _She grips the white shirt that I'm wearing. Pulls away from me and looks at me with the same dark eyes we all share; although hers is more reddish in colour now from the crying and puffy like the cotton she picks every day._

" _Come home to us."_

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Train Ride**_

* * *

 _Kitty leads us into the lounge cart of the train. My sadness and shock may have lessened now but my surprise at how wonderful everything looks is definitely showing. Beatrice beside me is also in awe, her crying had subsided briefly._

 _The train cart was extravagant, a chandelier hung from the ceiling straight in the middle of the cart, each jewel and gold sparkle and glint like the stars in the sky. The carpet a blood red, probably intentional but never the less it's the softest thing I have ever felt. There's a table to the side, closer to one of the windows all filled with food._

" _That's right kids," Kitty starts and looks at the both of us. "These are all yours until we get to the Capitol, so please eat up!"_

 _No one moves, except for the escort. She takes her seat and begins to eat. She looks to us three, Leone included who doesn't seem to want to be here but is trying her best to. The atmosphere quickly changes to that of awkwardness._

 _Leone Tross, a rebel in Eleven that instigated the rebellious efforts in Eleven had been arrested after the Capitol had won the war. She showed her face again when the Hunger Games were announced a year later, what was once a spitfire woman is now worn down, eyes sunken and frame thin._

 _She must have been through a lot but nevertheless she takes her seat, opposite that of the escort who smiled before tucking into her food. Beatrice soon follows, and I'm left alone for a few seconds before I eventually follow through._

" _We should start by introducing ourselves." Kitty says, and it's met with silence._

" _What's the point?" I ask her. "We all know each other. We should just get straight to talking strategies."_

" _Strategies?" Beatrice opposite me says with a tilt of her head, and it seems like she's ready to cry again at words she doesn't quite understand or comprehend._

" _Strategies, what we're going to do when we get to the arena."_

" _Let's not talk about that just now," Kitty says. "We should eat first then we can talk."_

" _Just hide, stay away from everyone that looks like they can kill you."_

 _I couldn't help but feel even more confused about this strategy, but Leone isn't giving any good advice. I doubt this escort is going to add on to that, she is obsessed with everything other than my own survival. Beatrice suddenly bursts out crying, running out of the cart and into what I'm assuming is her own room._

" _She's a lost cause kid, so don't bother." Leon tells me as she takes a gulp of some strange coloured liquid._

 _I know she's a lost cause but that doesn't stop my worry for the younger tribute. Beatrice didn't choose to be here, she was forced to be here and now she's going to wind up dead. I excuse myself from the table, clearly, I'm going to have to come up with my own plans. No one in this whole train ride to what could be my impending doom is going to help me._

 _I spent most of the train ride to the Capitol in my room, it took maybe half a day to get there, an overnight trip and we've arrived at the outskirts of One going into the Capitol. The sheets and bed were so comfortable that I barely get out of it when Kitty comes knocking at the door, shrill voice telling me to get ready or else we were going to be late._

 _After a few more tries, I finally give in and shower, it feels great. The warm water beats any cold shower I've had in the past year or so. Eleven has this problem of power cuts and heating problems. Although we barely get some sort of winter like I would assume other districts would, we do get a brief few months where the temperature dips._

" _Bergamot! I swear you people would rather watch me get reprimanded on my first ever job than actually listen to me!_

 _I don't yell anything back, there's no point. I'm nearly finish anyway. As I look into the wardrobe, there's only one piece of clothing there. I suppose I'm to wear it. I take it out and admire it; soft cotton shirt, white in colour and some form of beige trousers, it's coarse but when I run my hand through it, the feeling doesn't give it away._

 _Then the impending doom kicks in once more, I close my eyes as I feel my breathing start to rise again. I swallow it down, trying to breathe slowly. I look at the hanger, metal wire turned into a hanger. Taking out the clothes and dumping them on the bed, I kneel down to the bottom of the wardrobe, untangle the wire and used it to carve my name at the bottom._

 _At least that way, when a tribute is having a tough time or just want to hide they can feel that they're not alone. It's also so that I can be remembered. A statement to say that I was here, and I was alive before the Capitol kills me._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Remake Centre**_

* * *

 _The train has stopped and both myself and Beatrice, who was wearing a nice creamy silk dress, are standing in front of the doorway. Leone and Kitty behind us. Leone looks like she hadn't slept, and Kitty looks like she's slept too much and is as perky as ever._

 _The metal doors slide open and all of our senses were flooded by noise, flashes of lights and everything else. My eyes close, I can still see the flashes inside them, but I feel someone grab my arm and am dragged through. I guess people already know we're here, I can hear some of them shout my name and the others Beatrice's. My eyes still blink at every flash of light, my ears have never been so overloaded with so many noises and sensations that it's making me feel so dizzy. Is this what the others before me experienced?_

 _We make it into a sliver building, Beatrice beside me looks like she's ready to cry once more but Leone just takes her hand, told her to keep it together and she surprisingly did. I don't know what happened, but Beatrice looks a little bit tougher than she did the day before. Kitty is pacing back and forth, with excitement, I'm not sure, but she's pacing._

" _District Eleven?"_

 _I look behind me and am greeted by this slim figure, a woman with bright yellow hair, billowing all the way down to her shoulders. There's dozens of flowers clipped on to them, like it's a golden garden. She wears a brown waistcoat over a white tight button shirt. Her trousers go up all the way to her stomach before it goes down to just above her ankles, where she wore a similar colour heels, as if she's not already tall enough._

" _Mallory!" Kitty shouts, rather shrieks really loudly._

" _It's been too long!" The woman runs up, as best she could, to the colourful escort and hugs her. "Congrats on the new job!"_

" _It's a lot of hard work!" She says, and I couldn't help by raise my eyebrows._

" _I bet it is, now who is mines?" She says pushing past Kitty and looking at myself and then at Beatrice. "I think it's you."_

 _She points at me, a slight disgust on her face. She pulls on my shirt at first and I couldn't help but pull them out of her hands. She tuts before telling me to follow her. I follow suit, leaving Beatrice as another colourful figure approach them._

" _You're lucky to have me," she says as we enter a hallway and into a set of white doors. "Mallory, your stylist, I make you look good."_

" _Thanks." I say abruptly, and she smirks._

" _Strip."_

" _What!?"_

" _Get your clothes off, come on we don't have all day!"_

" _I'm not doing that."_

" _Fine but this will be a lot easier if your clothes are all off…"_

 _She trails off behind a screen and pipes seemingly come down from the ceiling. Before I could react, I'm drenched in cold water, the clothes clinging to my thin frame, then it's followed by the flowery scent of soap._

" _Okay! Okay!" I say, and the soap and water stop._

 _Defeated, I strip naked in front of this lady, someone I never thought could ever happened to me. She looks me up and down from behind the screen before nodding her approval. I cover my 'important' areas as the freezing water rain down on me again, drenching me to the bone. It's followed by the same flowery scent. Then hot water showers down, enough to feel the burning in my skin._

 _Once all the suds were taken off, I look around. Mallory hugs me with a warm white towel. Her smile looks genuine this time before she pushes me to the next area. There's a seat, and a mirror opposite it._

" _Okay, go and sit and I'll try and make you look somewhat presentable."_

" _Why are you doing all of this?"_

" _To make you district folk clean, and I told you at the start, it's my job. I make you look good in front of the Capitol."_

" _What for though?"_

" _I don't quite know yet…there's rumours between the other stylists that an interview is going to happen at some point…" She admits, and I look down at the towel covering my body. "But I'll try my best to make you look good, okay?"_

 _I just nod my head._

" _Look, we can hate each other, or we can learn to co-operate. It will make this whole experience faster."_

" _It just…it feels all too new to me, my whole situation back home is so vastly different than what I'm experiencing now."_

" _I don't quite get it but trust in me, I'll make sure you're still you at the end."_

 _Another genuine smile, I can tell because her purple eyes seem to smile with her. I must have misjudged her at some point because she's not as bad as Kitty was. She's just a person that has a job to do, like I had a job at home and how my mother and my sisters all had._

 _Although to accept a job at making tributes for dead look good is a little unnerving._

* * *

 _After almost two hours of hair pulling and fixing my eyebrows as well as every single hair from my body. Mallory finally finished, and she walks me back to where we first met her. Beatrice was already there, her eyes were puffy, she must've been crying again. Leone is nowhere to be found but there's another lady beside Beatrice that's not really Kitty._

" _It's okay, hey, don't cry." Her voice was soft and soothing._

" _Irvine, what have you done now?" Mallory asks her, but the girl just stood up straight and apologised profusely._

" _N-nothing! I told her she looked pretty and that she must look like her mother and then she just started to cry. I tried soothing her but it's not working."_

 _Irvine was smaller than Mallory. Short, almost white hair with bits of grey mixed inside it. She wears a similar coloured dress that has two pockets at the front with various things in them like scissors and tape measure and a few pens and pencil._

" _Hey, it's fine okay." Mallory tells Beatrice and she seems to calm down. "Irvine is here to help you. Don't be so sad, I know this situation is unavoidable, but you have to try your best."_

 _Then Mallory does something I never thought anyone would do: she hugs the girl. Beatrice, to my surprise also, hugs back and seem to bury her face into the woman's stomach. Irvine then goes to apologise to Beatrice and she apologises too._

" _Your tribute looks good sis," Irvine comments and looks me up and down. "You've really outdone yourself."_

 _I don't think I look that good. Navy suit that clings to my thin frame, another white button up shirt underneath the jacket. The bowtie is also a navy in colour. My eyebrows look equal now, or at least that's what Mallory says, but I don't feel like they are._

 _Beatrice is also wearing a similar colour dress. It flows all the way past her knees and just ends maybe a quarter or so inches before her ankles. Her shoes are white to match the bow clipped to her hair. It's all frizzed up like a tumbleweed, but it surprisingly looks good._

 _My shoes are new, I can feel my feet start to get uncomfortable. I don't think I'll ever afford this kind of suit. It's worth maybe twice or three times more than I am. Irvine and Mallory look at us both and then we're dragged to a different place. Beatrice holds onto my hand tightly, but I don't care. We enter this large room and see the other tributes for the first time._

 _All eyes are on us, others looked just as scared as Beatrice is, but others look indifferent. At this point, I don't know where to look. Irvine and Mallory take us and stand with us near the back. There's one person at the front, he's got a dazzling smile on him. His brown hair seems too regular for the Capitol and his suit is a bronze in colour._

" _Welcome everyone!" The man says. "I think that's everyone, right?"_

 _The Peacekeeper by the only exit nods and then the man smiles again. He looks at each of us individually, I try to see if there's any remorse in the brightly blue eyes he has, but I just couldn't find it._

" _I am Rexton Price," he says. "Head Gamemaker for this year's Hunger Games. Now, you must be wondering why you're here and not in the arena already. Well, this year is special, and future years will be too."_

 _He stands aside and a projector slides down from the ceiling. It begins to flicker to life and projects all twenty-four tributes. Beside each of our pictures were numbers, rather odds to win the Hunger Games. Some of us understood it and the more younger ones didn't._

" _Betting?" One of the bigger more intimidating tributes spoke up._

" _I'd like to call it Sponsor System." Rexton replies. "It's a system we've come up with, to show you tributes off, the odds here show the first impressions that we, as citizens of Panem, thought you lot. However, after this there will be an interview where you can change the impression. The more impressed they are with you then the likelihood you will be sponsored."_

" _What will that do?" Asks one of the girls, I think she's the One girl, her hair was blonde and let down like golden rays._

" _Simple," Rexton looks at her. "You impress the citizens, they sponsor you, then that money goes into a collection under your name. During that time, your mentors can choose to send you items to help you in the arena. It can be a weapon, food or drink, anything really. The more niche the item, however, the more expensive it gets."_

" _So basically, we're being shown around like sheep for slaughter?"_

" _Think of it however you like," Rexton says looking at what I assume is the Ten boy. "You're here now; you're dressed up, so why not impress them and boost your chances of survival?"_

 _Everyone is silent now. No one else wanted to say anything. It's true what that tribute just said. We are just show dogs. Dressed to impress. Nothing but a bunch of animals ready to be killed. It's disgraceful._

" _Well if you tributes line up and follow me to the colosseum, we will start with the interviews."_

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
**_ _ **Interview**_

* * *

 _We were led backstage. The colosseum had been transformed completely. Definitely different from what Leone had described it. The dusty red ground is no longer here, replaced with a much harder and firmer concrete. There's various of crews and cameramen running about like crazy._

 _The other stylists are applying last minute touches to everyone's outfits. All except Mallory and Irvine. Kitty had managed to force her way in here, telling us how to behave in front of the masses. I know what to do, I'm going to pander. I want to survive, I want to go home._

 _Beatrice looks sad, as always, but there's another element to it; nervousness. She takes a small sip of water and looks at me. She gives me a reassuring smile but one that doesn't seem to reassure me at all, in fact it does the complete opposite._

 _Then it all just stops, the crew seems to take their spots. We're told to line up in district order, boy then girl and so on. I follow suit. I stand behind the girl from Ten. Her curly brown hair is neat and flows down to her shoulders. The heels she's wearing makes her look tall, but she looks like it's her first time wearing them._

" _Positions everyone!"_

 _The director shouts and everyone is silent. There's a small countdown before the Capitol anthem blares loud enough to deafen the whole of backstage. Everyone looks towards the screen that's on top of the steps leading up to the stage. A very happy Rexton Price walks casually on the other side of the stage, like he was born to do this._

" _Welcome! Welcome dear Capitol, and indeed the whole of Panem!"_

 _The cheers seem to go on forever, Rexton stands there and bask in the glory. The night air contributing to the majestic atmosphere that he is making. He's clearly well versed in public speaking. Suddenly, I feel all clammy. I rub my sweaty hands on my trousers. Mallory won't mind. I look back up to the screen to see that Rexton is now sitting down in one of two chairs._

 _He looks to the side where the tributes would be walking in and then he nods his head. He begins to talk once more, and the Capitol crowd, sitting on the plush seats of the colosseum, are captivated; hanging on to every word he says._

" _Well, since this is the Tenth anniversary of the Hunger Games. I thought we made something special. We've introduced the new Sponsor System, we've taken the tributes and spruced them up but now this is another one. We will be interviewing the tributes! We have spruced them up, got them all clean and now we'll see them live and in the flesh!"_

 _The crowds loved it. They're going crazy and during that I didn't realise that the One boy had already moved out and sat across from Rexton. He looks nervous, but he seemed to relax when Rexton started to speak._

* * *

 _The interviews seem to go on forever, but things got more interesting as it continued. The Three tributes stayed silent for the three minutes they were on. The Six tributes did too, but they spoke once or twice. The Seven tributes looked nervous and scared and the Nine boy was just flat out angry at his mentor for being drunk all the time. The boy from Ten had just suffered a complete breakdown on stage, he had to be dragged away from the stage. Rexton looked scared and nervous, something that showed me that he is human, he's just good at hiding it._

 _Then there's me._

 _I sit across from the person that's deciding my fate. His smile seemed fake up close. He introduces me, and I relax back in my chair. Just answer his stupid questions and then it will be all over. He looks at the crowds and then at me._

" _Bergamot, how are you and tell the crowd how old you are."_

" _I'm fine, never better, and I'm seventeen."_

" _Here that folks? Never better." Rexton says as he leans forward. "Now tell me, Bergamot, what do you think of the Capitol."_

 _Dreadful, oppressing. It's scary being here by yourself, Beatrice and Leone are the only people from my district and yet I felt lonelier than I could ever be. Obviously, I couldn't say that, so I just smile and lean forward._

" _Wonderful, I've never been anywhere else other than Eleven and this place is amazing. Truly amazing."_

 _Rexton looks at me straight, then smiles. The crowd seems to cheer on my faux praise of the Capitol, although now I'm just realising that these people must be airheads, there's only a select few people that I have met that seems to have a brain. Rexton and Mallory are two so far. The rest seems to just function on whatever is fed to them._

" _Wonderful indeed." Rexton agrees with a nod of his head. "Speaking of Eleven, what is your home life like?"_

" _I can't possibly bore you with the details." I say and hear the crowd boo, although not in an angry way. "Okay, okay. It's fun, I make most what I have. I have three older sisters that look after me all the time. My mother works hard too but I want her to stop working, I want her to retire and have a good life."_

 _The 'aww' from the crowd of people suggests that they liked that. Rexton too looks like he likes it as he moves on to his last question. He leans back, and I copy him._

" _What do you plan to do in the Games."_

 _That's easy._

" _Win."_

 _The crowd begins to cheer loud, some clapping and others just screaming my name. I sound confident but inside I'm starting to breakdown. Not quite Ten boy level breakdown but I can feel my hand start to tremble._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Night Before**_

* * *

 _The night is ending, the interviews flashed by like a daydream and we were all lead back into the tribute centre. My hands had stopped trembling sometime between, but I can't help but feel sorry for many of the tributes; Beatrice especially began to cry hysterically that all Rexton Price could do was stutter._

 _The audience didn't know how to feel, the tributes that had any sort of empathy did though. They saw, for the first time, that the Capitol didn't fully comprehend what was going to happen to us. Yet by the time they can fully act on it, Beatrice was ushered away by two Peacekeepers and was replaced by the equally stunned Twelve boy._

 _There's only a few hours left to the end of the day and then the Games is going to start. What will the future hole for all of us? The arena this year is a mystery. No one knows what it's going to be. Leone couldn't give any further advice. She had thought it was going to be the arena yet again, but she was wrong, her advice could cost us our lives._

 _Lying awake on the plush and soft bed, I wait until sleep finally takes over me._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Launch + Day 1**_

* * *

 _The next morning was a quiet affair._

 _I can tell that Beatrice hardly slept. I slept for a little bit before being woken up by nightmares. I haven't experienced the Games yet and I'm already a wreck. Leone quietly drinks coffee as she avoids eye contact from us both. Kitty is happily talking at us both, although we're not actively listening._

 _Other than her, everyone else had a tense feeling. Nothing in the whole world could stop us from thinking of what's going to happen next. Kitty had told us to eat some food because we might not be able to eat during the arena. I didn't really know why she suggested that because the arena normally lasts around two or three hours._

 _There's a knock on the door, around eight. Two Peacekeepers walk in, Leone stands, and I stand with her. Beatrice reluctantly stands, and Kitty follows suit._

" _Follow us," one of them said. "No need to bring anything, just yourselves."_

" _Okay! Let's go kids." Kitty said, practically having to drag Beatrice away from the table._

 _Another different feeling, walking downstairs, taking the elevator down to a hanger. Two hovercrafts are warming up their engines. At least a hundred or so Peacekeepers are all wandering about, some standing and the others ushering the early tributes into one of the two hovercrafts._

" _This way Eleven."_

 _The Peacekeeper that had picked us up says with gusto as we follow him or her. There's so much more noise here in comparison to the apartment we stayed in. Beatrice looks scared and nervous, but she continues to follow._

 _Once inside, I can see that at least half of the tributes are here. Ten boy is here, he looks calm and collected now, the Twos are here too and has been staring down the others. No one else is really of note, they all feel the same as we feel. The metallic seat I'm sitting on is cold and hard, I lean back and feel the same hardness on my back._

 _When the hovercraft begins to take off, the time left until the Games start is getting so close. I grip my hands together, I sigh into them both, close my eyes and wait for when we arrive._

 _It didn't take long, maybe a good hour or two and when we arrived, and the latch opens, I was amazed to see that it looks exactly like the hangar from before. Standing there meeting the lot of us were the stylists. Mallory and Irvine stood with smiles on their faces, I walk up to Mallory and she put her hand on the small of my back and pushes me in deeper into the only exit into the hangar._

 _Everything is so white. We walk in comfortable silence, Peacekeeper behind the both of us, just in case I try to escape. I doubt I would, this place is a maze, I would get lost within the pristine walls and before that happens I might even go blind from the brightness of everything._

 _You can tell that the Capitol has spared no expense on the Tenth Hunger Games._

" _We're just in here, darling." Mallory says as she puts her hand on the wall, a small part of the wall pushes in and it slides open revealing an equally white room._

 _There's a table in the middle, with a bit of food and a drink of water. The walls are like tiles, the edges all lit up by white lights. There's no mirrors and looking at Mallory and then at my hands it looks like we both stand out._

" _Would you like something to eat?" She asks me as she moves onto a side of the wall and pushes again._

" _No thanks." I say but I do take the drink of water._

 _The panel does the same as the entrance, to which it has completely vanished behind me now. This time a part of the wall slides outwards revealing an outfit._

" _This year is different." Mallory tells me. "The outfit looks warm."_

 _She holds up the waterproof black jacket, then followed by a beige button up shirt. I walk over and feel the material; thick and warm. However, the bottoms are different. Shorts and coloured almost a dark green._

" _What do you mean 'this year's different'?" I ask suddenly remembering what she said._

" _Well, there's stylists, but we don't know what the arena is, and the outfits are different from the last nine Games, they're normally white but this year it's this. I can't even guess what it will be like. The boots here are a nice sandy brown, nothing much to say other than they look and feel sturdy, maybe it's going to be earthy?"_

" _Five minutes."_

 _The speakers that I've only now just noticed in every corner suddenly says and that certainly puts me on edge. There's only that many time left until the Games. It puts it into perspective; how long until I probably end up dead._

" _Quickly now, put them on."_

 _She ushers me back to the table where I left the water. She turns around and I get dressed quickly. Out of the pyjamas and into the warm and slightly heavy clothing. I give a small cough to say that I had finished, and she looks at me as she turns. There's a smile on her face, not quite the same one from when I first met her; a genuine one._

" _Come here." She says, and I approach cautiously._

 _She did something I didn't expect she would have. Her arms wrap around my whole body. She squeezes tightly and whispers into my ears._

" _Thank you for being my tribute this year," she says initially and then she follows with, "…and I'm sorry it was under these occasion."_

 _She lets go first and I look at her, dumbfounded to find that she had a heart after all. There's a little bit of tears in her eyes but she brushes them away. She leads me to the back of the room, there's a circular metallic podium, white steps leading up to it._

" _This is where you stand." She tells me. "Would you like to drink the rest of your water?"_

" _No, it's fine." I say. "Thank you for everything."_

" _It was my pleasure."_

" _One minute, please stand on your podiums."_

 _The same voice says. I look at Mallory one last time, the sound of the air vents can be heard until machinery start and a cylindrical glass seemingly appear from the ceiling. I must have looked worried because Mallory tells me to stay still, she gives me one last smile and as the glass comes down, everything went quiet._

 _The sound of my breathing is the only thing I can hear, the air vents was gone. I can see Mallory mouth a 'good luck' or maybe she said it and I just can't hear her. Then the platform I was standing on suddenly starts ascending._

 _The sounds I could hear first. Bird calls, maybe rustling of some leaves made by the wind and then as I ascend further my eyes instinctively shut from the light of the sun. Then, as I open my eyes, I see a lush forest scene in front of me. It's all green, it's almost reminiscent of my District, instead it's slight colder and there's a distinct lack of low hanging branches in the giant wooden trees._

 _I look around further and found no one else. Which is strange, it makes me wonder how big this arena really is. The panic kicks in as I couldn't see anyone, the element of surprise is now everyone's weapon. The countdown starts, I could see it, in front of me. Counting down from sixty._

 _59…58…57…_

 _I look some more, for anyone. There's still no one. I must look like an idiot to the people watching. Gone was the confident person from the interviews that cockily said he would win and now all they're seeing is me, panicking and being a nervous wreck._

 _32…31…30…_

 _Thirty seconds, should I step off? No, there must be something going on here, it must be a trap to step off the platform. I'm not willing to find out. The sounds of the birds seem relentless, just minding their own business. Too bad that as soon as that countdown ticks to zero that it would all be chaos._

 _10…9…8…_

 _I take a big breath in and exhale almost as the numbers hit zero. A gong sounds, and the Hunger Games officially begins. I take a careful step off the platform and brace myself for any traps but nothing._

 _There doesn't seem to be anyone immediate of where I started. I think I should stay here for a bit, look around for anything the Gamemakers have maybe placed. The leaves that have fallen amongst the debris crunches underneath my boots, I've been here a couple of minutes and it's already covered in mud._

 _Then there's a blood curdling scream, don't know from what direction but it's enough to make me jump into the nearest foliage, hiding within a group of bushes. My breath hitched, and I covered my mouth to not make more noise. My eyes close tightly as the sound of a cannon booms across the arena frightening all the birds that it makes them fly around, the echoes last an age before everything goes quiet._

 _I stay within the foliage for what seems like hours until I decide that it's safe. The sun that was blinding looks like it's past its peak and is now slowly descending. The clouds gather masking the sunlight, the birds have returned to sing their sweet songs and the wind continues to rustle the trees and the leaves._

 _Straying away from my starting platform, I head into the woods, passing by giant trees and stepping on debris. Animals such as deer and some rabbits past by me without a care in the world. Then, as I follow a squirrel into a nearby tree I see them, knives, maybe one or two from a distance glint as the squirrel passes by them and goes up the tree._

 _I look around and approach the knife, already cautious of what's to happen if I take them but as soon as my hand grip the black handle of the knife nothing happens. I lift it into the air, but I drop it quickly at the sound of another cannon, I take the knives and duck into the foliage once more, my breath this time is coming in waves as another cannon echoes almost a minute or two after the first one._

 _Another hour passes by and I make my way away from where I found the knives. After everything that has happened, I feel content, I've found a way to defend myself but at the same time at least three tributes have died already. I don't know who, but they're gone, which means there's twenty-one of us left._

 _I stop, and my eyes widen suddenly at the sound of rustling in the nearby bushes. I can't have been making too much noise, so I turn to where the rustling is coming from. It could just be the wind or one of those tiny animals I saw earlier but the tiny girl from Twelve stumble out of it._

 _Her dark long hair is all muddy, along with her outfit. Everything looks torn and her eyes look shocked. I try my best to approach her and she panics, looking at me I offer a small smile, one that quickly turns into a big frown as she begins to scream as loudly as she could from the top of her lungs._

 _Hearing her scream, I run away from her, knowing full well that it's going to attract someone a lot more threatening than what I wanted to appear to be. I then hear another rustling from my left and I dive to the foliage to my right. The knives safely tucked into my boots._

 _I didn't get a chance to see who they were but a cannon echoes again as soon as the screaming had stopped. My eyes are closed but I could hear voices, they're still there, whomever they were that killed that girl is still here. I move closer to the tree and lean against it._

" _That's at least two people we've killed."_

" _Yeah, I thought they said we would start in a circle."_

 _I think I recognise their voices. From the interview. I hesitate for a bit and my curiosity took over and I chanced a look, it confirms my suspicions. The Twos are there by the body of the Twelve girl. What made them even more menacing was the weapons they had with them. The boy had a sword that looked heavy and covered in blood whilst the girl had a dagger she held on to._

" _Let's go looking for more tributes." The boy says as he moves past the Twelve girl's body, thankfully away from me._

 _The girl seems to look around first, taking a few steps my direction before deciding against whatever she was thinking and following her district partner. My breathing returns to normal when I think they're far enough for them not to hear me._

 _I stay where I am, the sun is setting rather fast as the moon begins to appear high in the sky. It's darker than I expected it to be. I'm lying down, as still as I can be amongst the foliage, the colours we were given made sense now. It's so much easier hiding with all these greens and beige colours. I just wished we were given longer trousers, wearing shorts with the amount of times I've dove into bushes have given them all scratches._

 _I was about to fall asleep, even though I didn't want to when another cannon prompts me to sit up. I think that makes five deaths. Five since we started. Mallory was right, this isn't like any other Games. It made me wonder if the Gamemakers intended for this to last for days._

 _If that's the case, then I need to find some food. I lean against the tree close by and think about what I'm going to do next. Suddenly, the anthem plays, and I instinctively look up. The Capitol seal is high up in the sky and then flashes of the boy from Three and Five appears in the sky one after the other, then followed by the girl from Six and then the boy from Twelve and finally the Twelve girl I saw only hours ago._

 _She looked different in the image in the sky rather than the dishevelled and scared looking girl. She must have fallen or ran away from the Two tributes and in turn seeing me she got too scared and didn't know what to do._

 _My hands begin to tremble again, I resort in sitting on them. My breath creates condensation as I breathe out, the temperature dropping and with that my sleep takes me. One thing that's on my mind as the day ends is that I'm somewhat glad that Beatrice wasn't up there._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Day 2**_

* * *

 _There were no cannons overnight, I should know because I was in and out of sleep. The Two tributes must've been sleeping as the others, without a care in the world. I felt on edge myself, the morning sun is already high in the sky._

 _When I woke up just a couple of hours ago there were two cannons, right after another. It felt terrifying, our numbers being dwindled down so fast. I tuck myself into a ball by the tree and cradled myself, the knives in my boot feel really cold against my leg, it's almost chilling._

 _I need to get away from this place._

 _Standing up and rushing out, I can't help but look around instinctively. No one in either directions, I turn to go farther away from where I saw the Two tributes but as soon as I round the path I hear a shout. I look behind to see the Two boy._

 _I bolt it, not looking back anymore. I know the threat so I'm going to run away from it. Simple as that. I can't jump into the bushes again, they can see me. I go deeper into the woods, looking for any low hanging branches, something, but there's none. I can't climb trees without the branches, it's harder and I'm sure the Two tributes will catch up to me before I can even manage to make it halfway. I can hear the boy shout at me._

 _I run faster, my breathing already resulting to panting, my lungs screaming for air. I run past more trees and more bushes, being careful not to trip on any of their roots. Until I encounter them. The Eight tributes._

 _They're just huddled together, no weapons, no food. Just there beside one of the silver platforms we all started in. I can see their faces, wide eyes, nervous, scared. All of these emotions seem to circle them, but my face just screams guilt._

 _What have I done?_

 _I run past them._

 _Closing my eyes and leaving the two of them, I can already anticipate what happens next as I run further into the forest, soon their scared faces disappear from my view and then it was followed by laughter and cackling, then by screams._

 _The Two tributes had stopped chasing me, finding more prey. I've not known the Two tributes to be this bloodthirsty. It's absolutely terrifying. Then as the cannons ring around the arena, I can tell that four tributes have lost their lives already on the second day, just before noon._

 _I sit, or rather collapse by the tree, panting like a dog on a heatwave. Then my body doesn't seem to know what's happening because it starts to cry, I put my hands on my face and decide on just crying. My tears feel warm, the guilt begins to rack up._

 _I haven't killed anyone yet, and I don't think I want to, but the guilt of leaving those two scared tributes to the hands of the Twos, to which I've already seen kill someone, leaves me with the same guilt. I look of the sky and mouth a sorry to the sky before curling up into a ball as I try to forget about the last few minutes._

 _It' must've been half an hour later when the tears finally stop. My hands still shook like a madman though, I can't stop them. I just let them be like that for a while, and I literally flinch at the sound of a further two cannons bringing the total to six children._

 _My hands begin to calm down, I've lost track of the time of day or how many tributes are left but it's getting darker again. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky a marvellous orange colour but I can't stay here like this, I need to take actions for myself._

 _At this point I think the weak is being weeded out and only the people that are desperate enough to kill are left. That includes me. I try to rest but just before I close my eyes I see a flash of brown and green within the darkening light. Then there's a glint of something and I stand quickly._

" _Who's there?" I ask loud enough so that they could hear._

 _Rustling to my left, I move backwards to see that the Five boy had emerged from within the cover of the trees. He looks different from when I last saw him, during the interviews. What really alerted me was not the way he looked but what he was holding, a knife that's bigger than my two tucked away in my boots._

" _Hey, I don't want any problem here." I tell him but it's no use._

 _My eyes flick to his clothes and find there's a few drops of blood already. Either he was injured, or he had killed someone. I guess I'm not about to find out by talking because I narrowly avoid a knife through the chest as he plunges forwards._

 _Reasoning isn't going to work it seems like, so I roll deeper into the forest and take out a knife from my boot. He chases after me, silent and calm as he looks for openings. He takes another plunge and this time it scratches the side of my arm, tearing right through the coat we were given. I manage to roll just in time before it goes any deeper though and he seems to growl in frustration, like a wild animal._

 _As he stumbles forward I use my knife to attack, he didn't have time to dodge but he does block it with his arm, it connects briefly leaving a gash on the arm that he's not using. The knife he held in his other collide with my own as he regains his balance and pushes forward._

 _I struggle to even move as he pushes me down to the ground, he pushes me forward enough to make me collapse to the ground. At this point, I can see him panting as he takes the knife ready to kill me. He doesn't say anything, and I can see immediately why he was struggling; he's tired. He must've just been in a fight before meeting me._

 _He takes a moment, but I throw debris in his eyes. He stumbles backwards, and I stand quickly, using my knife I plunge towards him. I can feel warm liquid flow into my hands, I didn't even look, I just couldn't as my head rest on his shoulders, I can hear the knife land with a thud on the earth floor; his last breath escapes his lungs as I collapse on top of him hand still on the knife, gripping it tightly._

 _I'm panting as it takes me a couple of minutes to get off the now dead person. It increases further as I hear the cannon, the first one that really rattles me all the way through, from head to toe. I don't really know what happens next, but I collapse beside the body and my eyes close._

 _The sounds of another cannon wake me up from the blackout I had, my eyes adjusted to the dark slowly as I feel for the body beside me, but he's gone. I don't know what that means but suddenly I feel paranoid. Did I kill him or not?_

 _Just then I flinch once more at the loud blaring anthem. I look up to the sky and see all the tributes that died today, that's what I'm assuming these are. A recap, something to show the other tributes that are left that this could have been them tonight._

 _I sighed in relief when I see the Five boy up there in the sky. Then my brief happiness end when I see the two Eight tributes appear one after the other. The guilty feeling appearing again, I seem to be less guilty about killing the Five boy, is this how he felt?_

 _He must've killed someone and that another tribute dead by his hands would do nothing. I don't want to feel like that but the more I dwell on it the less I feel, what is this feeling? Indifference? I look at my hands, the blood had begun to dry up and already begin to crust off my hands._

 _I move away from the area and rest beside a tree, I'm about to rest some more when I see a glint of sliver in front of me. Immediately my hands grip the knife that I used to kill Five. I hate how much I'm on edge after that one encounter already. I approach with caution and as I come closer to it, I begin to calm down._

 _It's just a silver box._

 _It landed where the Five boy's body would have been, if I look closely I could still probably see the blood that was spilled but I'm not going to do that. I open the box and see that there's a packet of crackers and a water bottle._

 _Is this what sponsors are? Did Leone send something useful?_

 _I take the bottle of water and drink out of it, making sure I leave enough to wash my hands. Then I stuff my face with the crackers once the blood has all been washed off. Then a thought hits me. If people are willing to send me some sponsor money, then does that mean I am worth it?_

 _I'd like to believe it like that, so my hope rises a little._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Day 3**_

* * *

 _I've grown accustomed to waking up by cannon sounds. That's three for three so far. I can't help but feel guilty hearing all these cannons and not being able to do anything about it, but then the guilt overcomes me so fast considering all the events of last night. The worst part is that I don't even remember when I had fallen asleep. All I know is that I'm alive and the Five boy is now dead._

 _I need to get out of this place, I don't know how far I am from the Two tributes, but I have this gut feeling that they're after me. Pocketing the crackers, I received after killing the Five boy, and his knives I make my way out of my hiding spot behind the trees._

 _I had a theory last night, before the Five boy had attacked me, that the tributes that have killed the most had Victors already. Save for the Five boy, I've only encountered the Two tributes that have killed so many. It would make sense that they would considering they have three Victors already. That means I must avoid the Sevens, Nines, Fours and Ones too._

 _For some reason, I feel like that's the only people left._

 _I cautiously leave the area where the Five boy met his demise and stalk past the same looking trees. I can hear the crunching of the ground underneath my boots. That's when I realise that there's no birds singing like they did the past few days, the animals that seemed to be abundant are now vacant too, even the insects that buzzed in and out of view are all gone._

 _Could this be it?_

 _I spent most of the day wandering the forest, looking for any sign of tribute activities. I don't know why I was seeking them out, it felt like the right thing to do but I won't know what to do when I do find some. Run? Fight? It's all up in the air._

 _I walk along what seems like a path when I see a figure far ahead. It's a small person, and as I walk slowly towards them I realise that it's Beatrice. I sigh in relief and make my way towards her. At first, she freaked out but then when she realised it was me she gives me a massive hug._

 _She's out of breath, I don't know why. Was she running away from someone? I look around quickly and as I was about to say that we were safe the boy from Four appears suddenly. My eyes flicked towards the bloody spear he held with his hands, and then to his outfit, which too was covered in blood._

 _I look at Beatrice, her hands tighten around my jacket as she tries to go behind me using me as a shield of sorts. I then look between him and then back at Beatrice, I signal to her with my eyes that we should make a run for it and I thank the whole of Panem that she understood that._

 _I make a slight move as the Four boy look cautiously between the two of us. He too was out of breath, probably chasing after Beatrice until she found me. His blood-stained jacket suggested that he had killed before, but I don't care about that. We need to move, now._

 _I take one step and rush away from him, back to where I was walking; Beatrice being pulled by myself as she tries to outrun the Four boy, who had started to run now too. I can tell that his stamina is good because he makes it look so effortlessly whilst I can feel my lungs begin to burn again. Beatrice looks like she won't last long either._

 _It was too late; the boy had used the spear to trip Beatrice. She lands on the ground with a thud and a roll. She backs away from Four, her voice trembling. She didn't know whether she should scream or plead for her life._

 _She didn't get a chance to do either as the spear plunges straight through her chest. Her death was instantaneous. It pierced towards the other side and got itself stuck on the earthy ground. I take that as my chance, the cannon booms and with that I push the boy off._

 _Four stumbles backwards and eventually fall over from the strength of the push. I'm still exhausted from the running, but I straddle him and repeatedly, with all my might, punch him. I don't know which goes bloody first, my hand or his face, but his face goes from sun-kissed model to bloody pulp within a few hits. When he was barely breathing, I take one of the knives and stab him through the chest._

 _His cannon felt so real, it felt so good to hear it thunder across the sky._

 _I may not have been the biggest fan of Beatrice, but she was from home. Save for Leone, Beatrice reminded me of what it was like to be in Eleven, shy and scared of the world out there. I may not have been her, but she helped me through this entire process of the pre-Games, even though she may have not realised it._

 _I take a moment before leaving the area. Taking the spear out of Beatrice and chucking it away. I leave her, no tears shed. I'll win this for the both of us. That I can make a promise._

 _It didn't take long for me to find another tribute. The Nine boy sees me with fear in his eyes, probably seeing the bloody knife in my hand as well as my bloody hands. He was short lived though as his cannon echoes across the arena. My eyes flicker towards his killer; the One girl._

 _She cackles._

" _Elevens do have the guts to kill, Balas owes me money."_

 _She then rushes towards me with her knife. We clash for so long, knife meets knife. Her kicks weren't as strong as my pushes. I'm trying to mentally prepare myself to murder another person so soon but then she cuts the side of my stomach and she smirks._

" _What's wrong? Can't hit a girl?" She taunts._

 _I ignore them as I push forwards, using my full strength I deliver a sharp kick to her stomach. She was shocked as she stumbled backwards and hit herself against a tree. It seems all the air had left her lungs and as I approach her, I take her knife and use that to kill her; plunging the knife to her chest._

 _I leave before her cannon fires a few minutes later._

 _The sun was setting by the time I meet the last remaining tributes, a few more cannons sounded before then though but it didn't matter now. The sun was fast setting into the horizon dyeing the sky into an orange gradient. It looked beautiful and it would've been a good end to my day if it wasn't for the fact that the last two tributes in front of me were the Two tributes._

" _Well look here." The Two girl says. "The boy from Eleven, the cocky one from the interviews, is the last one left."_

" _Yeah," her partner says. "You're right about that."_

 _Before she could even react, I see a sword blossom out of her chest, followed by a flowering of red. She goes limp within seconds. Her cannon resounds across the orange hue sky. I hear the boy laugh as he lets go of the sword, collapsing to the ground along with the Two girl._

 _The sword she held fell by her side. It's picked up easily by the Two boy as he walks towards me slowly. The sword looks menacing as I stare at it before I flick towards the boy. He lifts it up to slash downwards, but I manage to dodge it and I plunge with my knife, but I miss, and it throws me off balance._

 _Then I feel it. A sharp stabbing pain throw my left leg. It takes me all my strength not to scream and as I look down all I see is the sword, it seems to have pierced through my whole leg. The blood is seeping out in troves. That's when I lost it, my voice seems to just scream, yell anything as the excruciating pain follows almost instantly._

 _All I can hear Two do is laugh, much like his partner earlier just before she was backstabbed by the same person that's probably going to kill me. Then my other knee buckles as I fall to the ground, sword still inside my leg. The boy now sits on top of me, his hands snaking up to me neck and he begins to squeeze, slowly gripping it._

 _He's choking me, and I try everything; trashing, moving, flailing, anything to get him off me but he's way too strong. I can't breathe. I close my eyes as I give one more push towards him and it works, he was thrown off balance as he lands on the ground. He looks at me with disbelief and then at the sword as I grip it and pull, my hands already bloody._

 _Then I give a big kick to the Two boy's head, he collapses to the floor and now it's my turn to sit on top of him. He struggles for a bit, but I don't waste time, taking a knife from my belt and jabbing him straight for the skull._

 _I fall back to his side; my breathing seems laboured as I feel sharp pains in and out of my leg. The cannon soon thunders across the sky, followed by some sort of fanfare. A voice from the sky suddenly comes on:_

" _Bergamot Musambi of District Eleven, congratulations on winning the Tenth Annual Hunger Games!"_

 _There's a sigh of relief there somewhere as my eyes close, darkness seems to consume me soon after._

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Post Games Interview**_

* * *

 _I could never get used to the Capitol crowds. Their cheers seem even more louder than usual, and that's just me waiting around backstage. Somehow it feels lonelier, there's far too many empty spaces where a stylist would be fussing over their tributes._

 _Now it's only Mallory fussing over me, the newest victor. Leone is here too, she looks happy, elated even to see me survive; probably because she is now finished with her mentoring and leaving it all to me._

 _Kitty is nowhere to be seen, although she is probably organising everything already. Mallory touches up one last thing with my outfit before she gives me the 'OK'. She looks at me with a fond look, it's still the same apologetic look but somehow mixed in with a bit of pride too._

" _You look absolutely fabulous." Is all she could say to me._

 _She doesn't hug me like last time and she just urges me to go up the steps and into the limelight. The colosseum is packed even more so than last time. The crowds are going crazy, shouting my name like it was in fashion._

 _Phineus Keenzest with his stripy blue and gold suit comes to greet me, he shakes my hand and tells me to sit on one of two velvet blue chairs. I take my place and he too sits down. The audience then begin to quieten down as Phineus asks me his first question._

" _Well, Bergamot, how do you feel?"_

" _One word, Phineus?" I say, and I look at the crowd with a big smile on my face._

" _Grateful."_

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi, 17, District Eleven Male  
Returning Home**_

* * *

 _It was a long train ride home._

 _Mallory and Kitty talked through most of it whilst Leone could only drink away her happiness. She seemed a lot more talkative too now that her burdens of being a rebel mentor was gone. As for myself? I felt even more lonelier than before._

 _Without Beatrice somewhere close by, I just couldn't focus. The window blurs all the foliage into one grey colour, but that's all I could look at. Nothing interested me, not from the conversations of Capitol culture and fashion from the two ladies, and nothing about what Leone was going to do once she arrives back home._

 _The blurring soon turned back to trees and fields, soon followed by houses and large metal fences before it completely stops at the station. There's a large crowd from what I could see through the window._

" _Come now, Bergamot, we can't keep them waiting." Kitty tells me as she pulls me away from the window._

" _Keep who waiting?" I ask._

" _You'll see," she smiles and then tilts my chin up. "Remember to smile."_

 _We were standing in front of the doors, and I look at her in confusion as the door opens and my eyes are immediately bombarded with bright flashes; my ears filled to the brim with copious amounts of words being poured into them._

 _Mallory and Kitty stand side by side me, along with two Peacekeepers. I look back to see if Leone was going to follow but she had disappeared from the entrance of the train already. I sigh as the two Capitolites lead me towards the new section of the district. Just north of the Justice Building are the newly developed, state of the art, homes for victors. The victor's village to be more precise._

 _Waiting for me at the gates were my sisters and then my mother. She looked like she'd been crying too much and as I pry away from Kitty and Mallory, my mother does the same. We meet halfway, and I hug her so tight I don't think she could breathe, but she does the same to me. I lean my head on her shoulder as I whisper into her ear._

" _Every time I close my eyes, I see them momma."_


	12. Ajax Craik

Orphans were common still at the start of the second decade of the Hunger Games, and are further still reaped for the Games. The introduction of the tesserae system during the ninth Hunger Games have only elevated this practice. This meant that orphans, whom had no means to earn money and therefore food, were common in the Hunger Games.

The tesserae system, a system which was introduced by President Laomedes himself in a means to help out the districts, to show that he somewhat cares for his districts. He doesn't care enough that the attachment to that was potentially doubling your odds of being pulled out of the intimidating glass bowls. When it was introduced, the districts went into an uproar, especially to those districts with a higher rate of poverty as well as orphans. The idea was ingenious only to the Capitol, it upped the stakes, it boosted the ratings and desperation. Nonetheless, the tesserae became a part of the Hunger Games, it continued and persisted.

So, enter Ajax Craik, a sickly-looking boy at twelve, wandering the empty alleys of village Delta, one of the smallest villages of Two. His father and mother long gone from the war, dying at the tail end of it all. No brothers or sisters to call his own, he was alone. He stayed like this for a while, stealing or borrowing, for four years until the introduction of the tesserae system. It seemed like a magical thing to ever grace the orphans of Two. Children from the village flock to the Justice Building demanding their tesserae; tickets in exchange for a name in the bowl.

The increased odds of being reaped didn't seem to matter as their stomachs took the reins. The resulting year, children reaped were just recovering from malnourishment and subsequently died in the Games. At sixteen, this concept had terrified Ajax, he knew the risks and he still took it but at the eve of his seventeenth birthday he had bumped into the first victor and so his life changes drastically from then on.

Leroy Ramnes, now in his late twenties, was on the prowl for orphans, down on their luck children willing to do anything, even enter the Hunger Games under his mentorship. His home back in the victor's village has been revamped into a sort of training camp, his target, orphans and scrappy individuals in all seven villages to train and enter into the Hunger Games. His first ever target was none other than Ajax Craik.

"How would you like to be prepared for when you do get reaped?"

He said it with a smile on his face, a hand outstretched to the boy sitting at the corner of some building in the depths of village Delta. The boy looked at him with raised eyebrows. His mind firing through quick pros and cons of the situation. A warm home, plentiful food but the fear of the ruthless Leroy Ramnes and intense training regimes.

He took the offer and that was it, regardless of the cons firing back and forth in his head. They headed straight for his home in the victor's village, he was given his own room, a bed to sleep in, warm food. That was his first day and the next day for an entire year he would train under Leroy until the next reaping. The intensity increased every month, along with girls and boys willing to try their luck too in the Games.

There were times in which the other victors would visit Leroy and would show their disapproval. Drusus would help train the other smaller kids that Leroy had adopted into his home, but he would avoid the older ones, especially one Electrum Mazon. Her older brother would come and take her away every time he found out she was here.

"Why take her away?" Ajax Craik suddenly spoke out, a week before the reapings for the Eleventh Hunger Games. "Don't you want her to be ready? To be prepared for the Games, even is she was reaped?"

"You have no right in telling me what to do, Electrum come here." The tomboyish girl rushed to her brother's side in an instant, she didn't even look back. He knew she would be back in a week or so, nothing could really stop her from coming back, not even the victor, Fossil Mazon. "I don't want you to ever associate to the likes of _him_ , do you hear me?"

* * *

Soon enough, the reaping had come, with only a year's preparation under his belt, he knew he was ready. Thus, without ever waiting to be reaped, the boy volunteered for some scrawny twelve-year-old. His resolve had strengthened within the last year, the glory that Leroy talked about, the riches and popularity is what he wanted. A legacy in which to call his own, rather than fading away into nothingness like his father and mother had become. He wanted it. The glory. He wanted his own house, he wanted everything that came after winning the spectacle of the Hunger Games.

His adventure through the Capitol was easy enough. He felt genuine to the public, his charisma mirroring that of Leroy, and the Capitol loved him. Sponsors showered his direction, he was a shoe in for victory. In fact, there were no other in the eyes of the Capitol that they would like to win.

During his time in the arena, it was different, it was not how he expected it at first. He never revealed his hatred for rebels until his last ever day in the Capitol, during the interviews. It was revealed that at least a quarter of the reaped tributes were rebels. It didn't take him long to find a cut down most of these tributes in the forested arena, this showed promise under the eyes of both the President and Leroy.

Rebels had no place in Panem, that's what Ajax Craik had thought, and soon by the end of the first day of the arena, Ajax had racked up four kills, all of which were identified rebel sons and daughters. A quick rest over the night and at the crack of dawn he had killed two more; the girl from Four, a rebel's daughter. She died relatively quick within the forest that was the arena. Ajax was not one to take in scenery, he had a focus and he would stick to it. The information of rebels being in the Games only spurred him on even further. Soon the boy from Twelve followed by; to think that they could last that long amazed even him. He cared not for whoever he cuts down, so long as he did it for a reason.

The murder of the other tributes bothered him so little, his head warped into a twisted sense of justice. That it was his right to win, he had trained hard; it was like his patriotic duty not only to Panem but to district Two to get rid of rebels or future rebels; pinching it at the bud. He had endured so much from the war, the deaths of his parents, the fear of being caught stealing from merchants and then the same feeling of dread at being reaped when he took out tesserae that first year.

But Leroy had changed that, the man had become a beacon for him, a ray of hope amongst his despair and nothing was going to stop him from disappointing the man. He was thankful for him, more than anyone would ever know.

As he was hunting down the last tribute, the boy from the quiet district of Nine, it was no problem for Ajax. He managed to chase him into a cliffside, the first time for them both to ever see the ocean. The sun was setting down on the second and last day of the arena, the boy from Nine had a small dagger with him but Ajax had a sword. A sponsored sword that reflected the red rays of the sun.

He approached, rather slowly at first before startling the boy when he ran towards him. His sword plunged as a loud shout booms from the Two boy's mouth pushing the sword in deeper, shoving him towards the cliffside. When the final cannon booms and the corpse of the Nine boy slip off the sword and fall down the cliff edge, the fanfare and the ever-astounding voice of Phineus Keenzest booms across the arena. He raised fist to the sky in glorious victory.

"Ajax Craik of District Two, congratulations! The victor of the Eleventh Hunger Games!"

It took him all but a day to recover from the arena, only sleeping when he had a chance. His crowning ceremony and interview all flew by, retaining the same confidence he had before. It was as if he had not changed at all, like his personality was never skewed by the Games unlike his other fellow victors that would follow him.

Leroy congratulated him on their way back to district Two. He could tell how proud he was, the pride swelling up within Ajax made him tear up, just a little bit before he faced the cheering crowds of Two. Not only was he celebrated as a hero, but he became Two's fourth victor. A feat. Ajax coming home put pressure on other districts, especially One, which previously they were tied with victor counts. He celebrated with his peers back home in Leroy's home before he entered his own.

Finally, hard work and determination had landed him his own home. The fears of previous years begin to melt one by one as he relaxed into his own bed. Everything within this house was his own, he slept soundly at night and he woke up every morning feeling refreshed.

It felt like a dream, and even after his Victory Tour, his resolve was not shaken. The dirty looks he was given, the unsettled crowd and protests against him seemed to not affect him, not even in the slightest.

However, he felt somewhat empty. Waking up every day with no purpose. Going to the Capitol for _'business'_ was something he was never fond of. He felt lost at times, Leroy had told him to get a hobby but even that did not help. In truth, he was never one to be sitting idle; even as a street urchin he was constantly on the move, whether that be running away or stealing.

That's when a brilliant idea had struck him at the end of his Victory Tour.

* * *

Leroy looked on, pride swelling in his chest as he walked into the abandoned warehouse. Ajax followed him inside as they both looked on. There were a few problems, the hole on the roof is one of those problems but nothing that could be fixed with money.

The purchased abandoned warehouse within the confines of central district Two was big but not too imposing, inconspicuous and discreet was what Leroy had wanted and this is probably as discreet as he was going to get. Together with Leroy, Ajax will turn this warehouse into a school of sorts, focused on training tributes for the Hunger Games, much like what he did under the tutelage of Leroy. Together the two will be formidable, they just know that doing this will not only be profitable for them both but also for district Two.

This deepened the patriotic duties within Ajax, one that he thought had long since lost ever since the war. He would work just as hard to train the future tributes into the Hunger Games. Convincing his tributes that volunteering is not only a show of strength but a chance at glory, a chance at standing with the greats like himself and Leroy.

For the first time in his entire life he had found purpose. Something he could work on until the day he dies. In a way, this was his own hobby, and he did it well; training tributes but he would find himself unsuccessful for a few decades soon after it has been established.

Drusus and Fossil have started training their own tributes a year or two after they were established, and he would find that his tributes would always lose to them. If not those two then it's some other tributes from some lesser district would both be crafty or be extremely strong. He would become even more annoyed at the fact that he had scouted Lyre Feldspar and immediately rejected Leroy and Ajax, instead finding victory under Fossil and Drusus' mentorship. In truth, he did not know that Lyre's eldest brother was Drusus' current boyfriend.

This had begun a bitter rivalry. Ajax and Leroy naming their academy _Gladius_ after the second decade of the Games and Fossil and Drusus officially naming theirs _Secutor_ after the thirty-fifth Hunger Games. They would compete with each other every year after the thirty-fifth Games, to see which can produce the best tributes. During these times, the academies will develop and evolve into their own distinct personalities.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train Station, Capital  
A week before Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour**_

* * *

 _It was a weird feeling dressed up like some sort of an official. A disguise made by Cassandra and Lincoln, I'm not Cade Valentine anymore but Vincent Cait, some politician tasked with documenting Victory Tours. In a way it seemed similar to what I secretly do, it's like sneaking past dangerous territory. Telling a white lie is technically still the truth._

 _I'm aware of the risk, if there is even one, of impersonating a Capitol official that doesn't even exist. My badge and documentations seem legal and the Peacekeepers, those that don't care too much, don't even bat an eyelid my way as I follow Lincoln into the back of the train._

 _"Just stay in your room for now," he whispers into my ear before putting on his helmet and then acting official. "Have a good day, sir."_

 _The door closed and with that, Lincoln leaves my presence and I'm stuck at one of the back carriages, the room is dimly lit but warm looking. This is my first time travelling to the districts, I know that my father and my grandfather had travelled to the districts all the time but ever since the second attempt at rebellion the President had made it almost impossible to travel._

 _I quickly take a seat on the desk and spill out the contents of my bag. The excess papers and reports of the next few tributes were strewn across it. I might as well get some work done whilst I'm here. In terms of my opinion of Ajax Craik._

 _He seems to be a carbon copy of the first victor, Leroy Ramnes, but their ruthlessness is the only similarity I could find. Whereas Leroy only saw the opening of what would become a mainstay tradition of academies in Two, as a profitable organisation for himself; Ajax seemed to care genuinely about the academy as well as the tributes that enter its presence._

 _It would become more evident at snippets of interview accounts, ones that I could find or have been procured for me how annoyed he comes across in them. How his tribute's victory was snatched by some conniving tribute or how his tribute had done their best but clearly not good enough. He cared about the glory, he cared about his district._

 _That's what separates himself from his mentor._


	13. Arlo Venilia

_**Tide Seaworth, Victor of the 8th Hunger Games  
**_

* * *

He's never liked reapings. Individuals, already sad and nervous thrown into panic as their names are announced for Panem to hear; sent to their doom in an unknown arena. He sighs to himself, combing his bleached blonde hair with his hands, he glanced at the crowd of kids of various ages as they watch the Capitol escort: Noel Raynott, with his brightly coloured suit and sparkling white teeth speak about the dark days and the treaty.

Nothing ever changes in that regards it seems. The mayor and vice-mayor to his side, on the rickety stage watches on regardless, already defeated in their stature and tired much like he is. Lately, Tide has been put in a lot of pressure from them both. A victor now would help this district, in terms of morale and overall well being.

Statistics, released just last week, has stated that Four was amongst the likes of Twelve and Six which have increased in the number of tesserae being taken. Vice-mayor Venilia even admitted earlier that his son has had to take some tesserae as the Capitol had increased tariffs once again, leaving his family to struggle despite owning a fishery.

There are three things that he's feeling simultaneously; nervous, being pressured to get a tribute home to feed his district for a year has always put him on edge. His first couple of years have been a struggle and last year was even worse; worried, that he may never bring a tribute home, so many faces are looking at him, expectations stack up every year. District One and Two are ahead in the victor departments now and are blazing ahead; sad, that he'll probably never be one of those accomplished victors like Leroy Ramnes of Two or Balas Beacon of One. He'll just be that one victor who failed several times to bring a tribute home.

Noel Raynott had finished his speech about how glorious the Capitol is and is now going to announce the tributes for this year. His polished brown shoes clack on the hard-wooden stage, the eerie silence magnifies the sound tenfold as everyone stare at the glass bowl. Dipping a manicured hand into the bowl, the man swirls his hand through it first before picking a paper. He moves back to the podium and announces the name.

"The female tribute for this year's Hunger Games is…" He opened the folded piece of paper, smiling he looks to the crowd. "…Nerida Ayers!"

A strong looking girl emerges from where the seventeen-year-old girls are sighing with relief. Her face had determination etched on it, her eyes stare forward ignoring the crowd as they whisper and stare her down. Her skin is tanned, probably from working out at the sea or just from exposure to the harsh Four sun, her hair dry and curly from the salty air. Nevertheless, she makes it to the stage with an air of dignity about her, one that Tide has pegged as a winner in his books already.

Noel is already back at the podium with another piece of paper in his hand, the escort wastes no time as he regards Nerida with a smile before facing the crowd once more, this time announcing the male tribute's name.

"The male tribute for this year's Hunger Games is…" Another smile, unfolding the piece of paper with a smile. "…Arlo Venilia!"

A similar tall boy from the eighteen-year-old section emerges, his face a nervous wreck but he held the same determination on his face as Nerida did, but he didn't know if it was more shock than the former. His hair curly and dark blonde in colour. He moves slower than Nerida did but as he does, Tide was shocked as vice-mayor Venilia began to scream for her son, her tears flooding, what once a tired looking woman that at least upheld an air of professionalism is now a nervous wreck. The mayor is trying to console her, but it was no use.

In that moment, Tide had decided that Nerida had more of a chance in coming home than Arlo. He didn't want to make that decision in the moment but as his mother continues to scream for her son, whilst Nerida only looks for hers in the sea of crowds, he could tell which of the tributes will be stronger.

* * *

Once goodbyes were said, and parents reluctantly leave the Justice Building, Tide and the two tributes along with Noel sit that night at the dinner cart. Food is plentiful here. It's disgusting how extravagant and decadent everything here on the train, and yet his home district is suffering.

The sound of cutlery hitting plates, and the idle chatting of Noel fills the otherwise silent dinner cart. Everyone is just tired from the day. Nerida looks mildly upset as she plays with her food, her black hair over one eye as she stares a hole through the plate. Arlo is doing the same, but he looks less upset than his district partner, there's a sense of quiet confidence as if he's decided on something already.

"Nerida." He says her name and both tributes look at him, he can feel the quiet acceptance of Arlo and it twists his heart a bit more, but he continues. "Won't you come with me and we can discuss strategies."

Nerida nods obediently and follows Tide into the next cart, leaving a sad looking Arlo behind with Noel. The next carriage they go into is a lounge type carriage, the evening sky projected in all the windows, stars rising high above. A plush sea coloured carpet covers the floor and there's a miniature chandelier hanging on the ceiling of the carriage, covered in a myriad of shells and pearls.

"This place is as fancy as the Justice Building," Nerida suddenly says, breaking the silence. "I've never seen something so…"

"Fancy?" Tide finishes and he sits down on the similar coloured sofa, he pats it for the girl to sit and she does so. "So, strategy?"

"Just win. I'm determined that I can win if I put my head to it."

There's something that's gnawing in his mind but Tide flashes her a smile, a small one but enough to give reassurance. Nerida seems to take that well as she relaxes a bit more. She looks around the extravagant room once more and this gave Tide some time to think.

"I think…I've decided that I'll support you more than Arlo." He said it, and he felt bad immediately after it.

"I-I don't know what to say." Nerida replied, tears welled up in her eyes before she wipes them away.

"Don't say anything, just survive." He told her. "I'm going to do anything and everything in my power to get you home."

He didn't expect it, but the girl suddenly hugged him. This made him feel even more guilty, choosing one person's life over another in which he perhaps should've tried to help both. However, he's tried to help both tributes before and it's not helped one bit. If he instead focused on one, then maybe he can finally bring someone home. Just maybe.

When they exit the compartment, he comes face to face with Arlo. Nerida looks between the two boys and she excused herself into her own room. Noel was already by the other side of the dinner carriage waiting for Nerida as he still hadn't given everyone the tour.

"Can I speak to you?" Arlo states once the carriage only contained them two. "I'm not going to complain, promise."

"Yeah, sure, let's sit there."

They sat on one of the plush sofas of the dinner carriage, Tide getting something to drink first before he sat down. He looked at Arlo's defeated form now, the confidence he saw earlier seemed to have faded away as he looked resigned.

"I'm not mad that you picked Nerida over me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I sensed from the start that you've picked to support her more than me." Arlo told him straight on, further twisting the knife that feels like it's stuck in his heart.

"I don't know what to say." Tide admitted suddenly.

"Say nothing, I'll help her out the best way I can."

"What?" Stunned, Tide gave the boy in front of him a surprised look. "Are you implying…"

"That I'll be a meat shield?" He finished the question and he nodded. "Yeah, I'll be one, so long as someone from Four goes home, so that many of our people can eat for a year."

"I may not even survive long enough but I will try and ally with Nerida." He continued. "It's what I want to do, I don't care if my mother and father disagrees with the decision that's what I want."

Tide was taken aback by the reaction, he would have expected something like an argument. He underestimated the boy. The way he harshly judged him for slaughter was unfair and he wanted to apologise but he held his tongue. He has decided and so did Arlo. Nerida is going to be victorious and no one is going to stop that now.

Arlo excused himself as he retired to his own room, leaving the victor by himself. The humming of the train is the only thing he could hear, his thoughts firing different things at him. He began to wonder if what he did was the right thing. If he should have fought for them both as opposed to picking just the one tribute.

* * *

The night was finally over, the flashing lights dancing when his eyes are closed have started to fade and he's never been happier. A round of interviews with that horrid Phineus Keenzest followed by some more talks with potential sponsors had left Tide exhausted. He watched his two tributes as they conversed on the ocean blue sofa, the same colour that was on the train ride over.

He could barely remember that day, even though it had only been a day. His mind continued to wonder if he had made the right decision but after seeing the determination of both his tributes and the agreement that Arlo will protect Nerida he couldn't really complain. The two were now inseparable.

Their interview outfits were still on, a little undone but regardless the two in front of him were like pearls in the sea. Dressed in matching seafoam like colours, Nerida's dress flows down like waves and Arlo had never looked more like a gentleman. Their stylists have done a fantastic job this year, even Noel had agreed, and he can be finnicky when it comes to dress styles.

Not only were their outfits amazing, the two had done a magnificent job during the interviews. Phineus Keenzest, dubbed as the Master of Ceremonies, has always asked tough questions but his two tributes had taken his advice on staying humble, as well as grateful of the Capitol, even though it was a complete lie. The Capitol found that in good taste, four years of spending his time in the Capitol had really helped him garner what type of culture these people have.

"Right." He suddenly said and the two looked to him. "You two have done a marvellous job tonight, hopefully all my schmoozing had helped us get some sponsors."

He walked towards the two and shook both their hands, he smiles as he looked at each of the separately. Somehow, he channelled a good luck with those eyes and the two seemed to understand that.

"Don't stay up too late now," He said to them as he retires towards the direction of his bedroom. "Early day tomorrow."

* * *

 _ **Arlo Venilia, 18, District Four Male  
Launch + Day 1**_

* * *

The nerves are creeping in, there's a chill in the air. Maybe it's from the air conditioner but the hair on my skin is standing up and forming goose bumps. I shiver at the thought of what's coming next, but I swallow it down and begin to change quickly. I need to focus, I'm doing this for Nerida, I can't get cold feet now.

Nerida had been telling me on her situation back home in Four, it's a lot different from my own. My father and mother have always lived a middle-class lifestyle, so they won't understand what they'll about to see from me today and possibly in future days. Nerida's family has been hit by the lack of resources going into Four, tesserae had been taken by her and her brothers, those that are of age, just to supplement their family but even that's not enough.

My fate had been sealed the minute Noel had announced my name. I knew that I'm going to die so why not help someone win or at least boost them up before I do? Ever since I was younger I've always wanted to help people, I thought that with my mother being vice-mayor I can do something about it, but it seems that's a waste completely. In the four years she had been in office nothing has happened.

Carmello Duval, my own stylist, had told me earlier that the outfit looked like last year's, so he suggested that it might be the same arena or at least within the same area. Suddenly ideas of what I can do floods my mind, how can I use this to my advantage? To help out Nerida?

"Now it may look the same as last year's," Carmello starts as he goes to a hidden cupboard and brings out some water and hands it to me. "…but they look warmer, the coat is thicker, and the pants are too."

I stay quiet as I think about the climate. So, it's going to be at least colder than winter in Four. I need to prepare for the worst just in case the Gamemakers plan something malicious. Tide has told me that they might do that.

I put on the jacket and drink the rest of the water. When I'm finished I nod at Carmello and he flashes his pearly white smile. He really has been a major help to me, it may have been a rough start between the two of us, but I've come to like him. His tips on how to talk to Phineus was great, I managed to hold in my nerves during that.

He leads me to the podium, I stand on the metal launch pad. The quiet humming of the air conditioning is all I could hear between the two of us and as the glass totally encapsulates me it's stopped.

"Goodbye…" I say to him, but I don't think he heard me because all he does is smile as I begin to rise.

* * *

The nerves are coming back, or maybe they haven't left at all just subdued when Carmello was talking. I start to breathe fast, but I close my eyes to try and calm myself down. The slow ascend to the arena seems to rise with my nerves, but as I ascend further I can hear winds rustling leaves and birds singing happy choruses.

My eyes briefly blinded by the sun but as soon as they adjust my breath seems to hitch. The arena looks amazing in real life; not like the same when you're forced to watch it every day. The forest is half filled with leaves and others without, and the ground is filled to the brim with different shades of oranges and red, and the odd brown ones too.

There's a pack in front of me. That's the second thing I see as the countdown reaches zero and a large gong boomed the entire arena. I run up to it, my boots crunching the leaves, birds flying away as I pick up the pack. There seems to be chill in the air now that I'm here a little longer.

I continue to head forwards, taking in the scenery but otherwise feeling spooked out. The trees with no leaves looks gnarled and twisted, as if they had already died when I know they've just lost their leaves, a transition from autumn to winter.

The sun seemed to have been eaten by the grey clouds, blanketing the entire arena with a dark shadow which further contributes to the chill that's lingering. I shiver slightly as I sling the bag behind me.

My priority is to find Nerida. My feet drag across the ground until it hits something. A root? I look down and spot a spear, plain and simple, by my boots. I pick it up and admire it. It makes me wonder if there are more weapons lying around underneath the sheer volume of the leaves.

* * *

 _ **Tide Seaworth, Victor of the 8th Hunger Games  
Mentor Centre, Capitol**_

* * *

Every victor is here, the mentors for the tributes of the Twelfth Hunger Games have all taken their seats and is now watching the start of the Games. He's situated between the Three escort: Tess Hartman and the Five escort: Talia Cope; both look like they're not bothered with their tributes at all as they converse to each other.

The room is wide and big, carpeted cream floors and similar coloured walls. There are twenty-four monitors in total in the room. They showed different tributes and other useful information that the mentors may require.

Tide thinks he's finally getting the hang of it, but he's soon panicked again, that's something he can't change about himself it seems. Nothing has happened yet, both Nerida and Arlo are safe in the meantime, but he can't help but feel the dread sitting in his stomach. The fancy electronics in front of him showed their basic symptoms, their heart rate and other vital signs.

"My tributes this year is going to win it." That was Leroy, Tide paid him no mind, he declares that every year and although he did bring home a victor last year it's not going to happen again this year.

"Dream on, you stupid idiot." That one was Balas, he paid him no mind either, both the victors feed on each other, a fierce rivalry that Tide didn't want to be too involved in.

He looked at the upper corner of each screen, the equal numbers showing how much sponsor points they have accumulated over the past day or so. Not much there but it's enough to get them something. All he had to do was wait for them both to meet up and then he can start to send them something.

The map is a simplified version of the arena. He can see how different it looked from the previous arena. The cliff sides are gone and instead a lake is in the middle of the map. There's an island in the middle but he doesn't think anyone would go for that place. He noted that it's a lot smaller than the previous one too, maybe this'll be a quick set of Games?

If the lake does come in handy, then it will be handy for Nerida and Arlo. Four are natural swimmers, being thought by their parents or instructors at such a young age. If they ever need to run from someone, then Tide can only hope they think of going into the lake.

* * *

The first few hours were just him, watching Nerida wander around aimlessly hoping to whatever celestial being out there that she bumps into Arlo and the plan can finally begin. She's wrapped herself with the spare jacket in the pack she found close to her podium.

Then there's laughter and noise coming from where the Two's and One's were sitting. He dared not look at them, but he couldn't help it, one glance and then he panics. He saw their tributes all honed into each other. Ones versus Twos versus Nerida. He gulped so hard that he did not care if the two escorts at either side of him heard.

"That rebellious Haik girl along with that Quisling boy from Eight have joined forces." Talia stated loud enough for him to hear. "She barely listened to my advice and instead sulked the entire day, the nerve!"

Add in the mix of two potentially dangerous outlier children and you've got yourself a bloodbath. All of them so close together that it's about to explode any minute now. He just wished it would be over soon, preferably with Nerida on top.

Then Tess piped up beside him getting his attention, he looked at his screen and then at hers. One of her tributes, the girl, has encountered Arlo. He could see the panic in the boy's eyes. The widening of his doe eyes followed by the shaking of the spear in his hands.

Then the unexpected happened. The girl attacked first, weapon less the girl from Three had lunged head first into Arlo and they both collapse to the ground, the girl scratching and screaming at Arlo's stunned face.

She must be a year or two younger than Arlo, but she looked younger still, thin and lithe, pale from head to two but her nails were sharp as they scratched at every visible skin she could find on Arlo. The Four boy managed to snap out of his stupor and managed to push her off him.

"I-I don't want to hurt you…" He could hear the faint voice from his tribute, Tide closed his eyes as he exhaled loudly.

He looked to where Tess sat, and she too seemed on edge as the girl attacked again but this time Arlo was ready, the boy sidestepped to the right and the girl missed him entirely. Her momentum managed to propel her forwards as she stumbled into another figure.

"Fuck…" Tide sighed out loud.

It was the much older Three boy, the same age as Arlo and he had found himself a sword. There were words exchanged between the two tributes before they headed towards Arlo. The boy jabbed first, with his sword but he missed when Arlo parried with the spear. He lunged with it but it missed the boy.

Meanwhile, the girl had jumped seemingly out of nowhere and Tide could feel the hope leaving out of him as he watched Arlo fall to the ground. Three boy had a grin on his face as he held the sword towards his face. He was about to lunge the sword when Arlo swept the spear, cleverly concealed within the detritus ridden forest floor, managing to knock the boy over to the ground.

This shocked even the Three girl as she hurried to her partner's side. That's when Tide had struck, first at the girl with the spear. Tide could see the shock in both their faces, the way the spear had lodged itself to her stomach right through as she held on to it, disbelief on her face also. Her mouth started to cough out sickly red blood and Tide watched as his tribute had let go of the spear.

The cannon sounded right after that, he picked up the sword, the glint from a stray sunlight alerted him to it and used it quickly to jab at the other boy's stomach. Tide had counted how many times his tribute had jabbed the Three boy.

Seven.

Seven times before the cannon had snapped him out of his stupor. His mind seemingly broken as he just stared at the two bodies. One of the first casualties of the Games. Tess Hartman looked at the screen, the vital signs flashed red before her screen shutdown completely. Her tributes gone just like that.

"Unbelievable." She said as she stood up from her seat and left the room.

No one had watched her leave except for Tide, soon Leroy makes some sort of 'whooping' noise and his eyes are back on the screen. Everyone had heard the cannons and are now headed to where it was; Nerida included.

He watched as Nerida rushed towards the source of the cannons, and the screaming from earlier would have contributed in finding Arlo and the Three bodies quickly. The constant panic he had felt has grown even more as he watched his tributes.

One a broken boy, handling the death of two tributes and the other a wildcard; unsure how she would react. Tide began mumbling to himself, a mantra he repeats to himself over and over to the point where he could hear Talia Cope beside him utter some sort of something to shut him up.

"Will you get it together and help your tributes?!" She said with a huff as she watched her two tributes.

What can he do? There's nothing to do now that they're in the arena. Nerida is making her way to where a still Arlo is still quietly sobbing to himself. He could see the guilt eating him up. Leroy and Ajax are making so much noise now that he can't concentrate at all. Too many distractions in his head, and he can't tune them out.

"Here it is!" Leroy chides the rest of the room.

"The bloodbath is going to begin!" Ajax chimed after him.

Tide turned around, nearly about to say something, but he stopped himself. Instead he saw as Balas joined the Two mentors as they all laughed, with only Flash Gladstone, the other One mentor, not joining in as he watched intently at his own tributes.

All he could do is wait out the impending bloodbath, which is fast approaching. His eyes flicked from screen to screen, he didn't know where to look and who to root for at this point. With two kills under his belt, Arlo has experienced what it's like to kill but it had broken him. Can he guarantee that Nerida doesn't do that too?

* * *

 _ **Arlo Venilia, 18, District Four Male  
Day 1**_

* * *

I can't stop my hands from trembling. I can't think, my breathing is coming out straggly and so fast that I feel like I can't breathe. Is this what it feels like to kill someone? I. I don't know but I just killed two people. Two entire lives alive only moments ago. There must be a mistake, this must be a bad dream.

The clouds seem to thunder above me, the cannons that I heard from earlier still echoes in my head, mere minutes apart from each other. The Three girl lay right beside her district partner, spear still inside her stomach and several holes in the boy's. I don't even know their names. I know them, but I can't remember it.

I can't remember anything.

My legs feel like their glued to the ground, the leaves and other things cling to my boots keeping me still to this ground, as if they're punishing me for killing these two; but it's not entirely my fault. I did say I didn't want a fight, but she lunged at me anyway. Right. It's self-defence that she died.

 _But she wasn't fighting you when you pierced her through the stomach with the spear._

"Shut up!"

I scream suddenly before clasping my mouth shut with my hands. My feet found movement again and I look around. There's a sound of crunching leaves to my back and as I turn the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. It's the menacing looking Two tributes, and then to their sides I immediately see the One tributes.

This is going to be a bloodbath.

The Two tributes turn to where I was looking and then they back away closer to me, but I keep my distance. I take the spear that was stuck to the Three girl. I didn't have time to feel guilty as adrenaline is filling me up again.

There seems to be a silence first, a sort of calm before the storm. A wind gusts past us moving leaves on the ground and in the trees. Then all hell broke loose.

The Two boy quickly attacks the girl from One, her sword clashes with the boy's own. She was overpowered rather quickly and was pushed to the ground but then the boy from One rushes past her and pushed the Two boy away from her. He didn't stop there though, and instead rushed towards me.

I step to the side with my spear outstretched, he managed to dodge it, but he too jabs a spear towards my body, managing to scrape my right leg, I cry out in pain as I stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the Three tributes.

"Where those your kill?" The One boy calls out to me. "Looks like I owe my mentor a drink when I get out of here."

I ignore whatever he says as I try my best to spear him with my weapon, he dodges so effortlessly that I get frustrated. He laughs at my futile attempts at fighting him, but he was soon stopped by the Two girl. Her sword slashes at his back and the boy staggers forward. I then manage to scrape his legs the same way he did to me.

"Arlo!"

I look to the side and see Nerida appear from behind a tree, closer to the One girl. Has she been here all along or did she just get here? It doesn't matter as she rushes to my side, avoiding swings that the One girl was doing, the Two boy was nowhere to be seen at this point.

I push the girl from Two out of the way as Nerida makes her way towards me, she doesn't stop. She intentionally stabs the back of the boy from One, who was already on the ground with a remarkable large gash on his back. He collapses quickly, the cannon erupts along with the blood.

"Let's go." Nerida whispers to me, she kneels and slips the sword out from the One boy's belt.

She looks at me with a nod, her eyes looking at mine, holding it before I nod too. We are about to escape the fight when the Two tributes appear out of nowhere. The boy's sword slashes down at her side, and the girl's own sword injures her free arm.

Just like that we're trapped.

I can see Nerida fall to her knees, her sword the only thing supporting her weight. She's bleeding, a lot. Suddenly, I can feel faint. My head spinning, my breath hitching. There's no pain but the panic like I felt earlier is returning. The feeling of being trapped, the impending doom. I can see my death right in front of me.

Nerida begins to stand up, but that was immediately stopped by the Two boy as he stabs the sword straight through her chest. The gasp that escapes her was the only thing I could hear; the sword she had in her hand land on the leaves as she begins to go limp.

"Run…" Nerida manages to choke out.

I look at her and could not believe it as her cannon echoes in the arena. I begin to run, past the bodies of my earlier fight along with the One boy. Past the One girl, who too had a shocked face on her. I didn't look back at anyone, I go deeper into the forest. Leaves crunching under my boots, the spear still grasped tightly in my hands.

She's dead.

Nerida is dead.

This was not the plan we agreed to before the Games started. I think of Tide, what he's doing right now. He invested all his time with Nerida, teaching her strategy and leaving me to do whatever, so now that she's dead and I have no such strategy I don't know what to do.

I keep running, that's the only thing I can do at this point. Running until the sun had set, the dark clouds clearing to reveal an empty night sky, dots of stars appearing at random. A moon faded underneath wisps of clouds.

Collapsing to the ground, beside a tree I catch my breath. The first night is fast approaching, and as I rest the anthem begin to resound towards the whole arena. The Three tributes, the One boy, and…Nerida. Those were the only ones I have witnessed die but as I kept running I heard more cannons.

The sky projects the tributes from One, then the Two girl, the Three tributes come on next…then it's Nerida. Her face looks so serene up there, like she was happy, but I know that it's never going to be that serene ever again. I left her. I can't believe it. Her face was followed further by the Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve tributes. Whatever was happening elsewhere must have been more exciting to have this many tributes die on the first day.

* * *

 _ **Tide Seaworth, Victor of the 8th Hunger Games  
Mentor Centre, Capitol  
Day 3**_

* * *

The third day.

It's now the third day and twenty tributes have fallen. Almost most of them during the first day alone. Tide has stayed pretty much in the control centre watching his own tribute suffer the longer the Games dragged on.

"Poor boy," Talia says beside him. "How is he doing?"

"Not very well." Tide manages, his voice hoarse. "He's sat by the lake for a day since the _'incident'_."

Talia stays silent and instead watches the same screen Tide is. Her concern seemed genuine for Arlo whilst she completely disregards her own tribute. The young, Fabre Haik, from Five has managed to kill a few tributes along with her supposed alliance with the boy, Kyle Fetzner, including the Two girl but most of the kills have gone to the Two tributes all together. Theodore Kingsley from Two is ruthless, clearly learning the ruthlessness from his mentors.

Now with only four tributes left the endgame is near. All the tributes looked tired, especially Arlo even though he hadn't moved from that space at all. He didn't even encounter any tributes, all he did was stare at the water, nothing to eat and drink, just the bare minimum. He used the sponsors to even get him things like blankets, a new spear, some food but he never used any of them. Just whatever was in the pack he found in the first day.

Then Leroy begins to laugh. More chortle as he looks around the near empty room. He raised his arms in a victorious pose already before he even knows the outcome. Tide could see Talia roll her eyes, and she just looked back at her tribute despite her contempt for her.

What Leroy was laughing about is the fact that Theodore has found Arlo. His anxiety has risen once more, and he could tell the impending fight is going to go the Two tribute's favour. He wants to scream at the screen, he wants to shake the boy out of this haze and just make him do something.

"Two is victorious once more!" Leroy laughed out loud.

"Don't be too cocky." Talia said with a smile on her face.

"What was that?" The look of contempt on his face evident. "You're not even a victor."

"I may not be, but my tribute could." Talia said with a menacing smile on her lipstick laden mouth.

Just then Leroy looked back to the screen he had neglected and growled, like an animal, as he slams his fists on the table. The resulting loud noise made the Eight escort flinch as he watched intently at the screen.

The Five girl had leapt out from seemingly nowhere, with her dagger and jabbed it into the boy's neck. Anger explodes from both Leroy and Theodore as he fights off the girl. She was flung into the ground, but her dagger is still lodged into the boy's neck.

During this time, Arlo snapped out of his daze and had ran away from the commotion, for some reason Tide was proud that he had ran away but he left most of his stuff. Only the spear that he still had a vice grip with is the only thing he's carrying. Tide could see how scared he looks, his knuckles turning white at where he's gripping the metal spear.

* * *

 _ **Arlo Venilia, 18, District Four Male  
Day 3**_

* * *

There's nothing more for me here but here I am running away from those two. I could have stayed and fight, hopefully have died helping the Five girl but I was scared. I've ran away again, just like the first day.

I didn't even know I was in the Hunger Games until I saw tributes again, I stumbled into the lake early on during the second day and just stayed there. There's something serene about it, despite the cannons that would periodically fire in the arena, I had been caught up by the slow swaying of trees during the day and the cool air of the night.

It was only an arena but somehow it reminded me of home. How I would sneak away from my room, from my house that was close to the mayor's in the dead of night, past Peacekeepers and drunkards and just sit there, by the beach, watching the horizon and listening to the gentle lap of the waves. Sometimes, I would walk into the water and feel it wash over me, but often I'm just content in watching the water.

I continue to run far away from that conflict. I look back this time to see if they're chasing me but there's no one. I look up to the sky, seeing the morning sun high above signalling the start of noon. I don't even know how many tributes are left but all I know is that someone is bound to die soon.

 _ **BOOM**_

That's another one gone. I close my eyes as I run past countless trees, away from the lake and was only stopped when I bump into someone else at full force. I bounce back and fall on my backside, I open my eyes quick to see the Eight boy looking scared at me. His sword is clean, his eyes look desperate.

Another fight that I can't run away from. He gets up first and I follow suit. His sword swings down forward and I stop it with my spear. He quickly follows up with his shoulder, pushing into me as I lose my footing, but I quickly regain my stance.

He's weaker than me, I can tell by the way he tried to push me just then. I jab my spear quickly and take it back closer. I'm trying to scare him off, maybe that'll happen, and he'll just leave after that, but that didn't seem to work as the boy slashes down again with the sword.

I can't handle another death on my hands, but as he continues to cut his way through my defences I had no choice. I exhale a big breath I didn't know I was holding and push forward, spear pointed right at him. To my surprise it collides into his chest. The blossom of blood on his dirty green outfit was enough to tell me that I've got him.

With the last bit of my strength I push closer, he's dropped his sword at this point and all I can do is push until I know for sure he's dead. His cannon a few seconds later tells me all I need to know as I stand back.

Distraught. That's all I can feel at this moment, the same way I felt when the Three tributes died by my hand. Closing my eyes, I grab hold of the spear, the squelching sound makes me want to vomit as I turn the other way and begin to walk slowly.

My anxiety is starting up again, my breathing coming out in short bursts, like before, my lungs not getting enough oxygen. I feel like I can't breathe and my eyes blur as I wander back to where I was before I started.

The lake.

The lake will save me, bring back the memories from before I was a murderer. Before I turned into such a monster.

* * *

I wander around aimlessly until I am positive that I see the lake, the serene memory of the day before coming back to me. I feel slightly better now, I've managed to find my footing and my breathing just fine. I can wash my hands and my face by the lakefront. Wash away the previous hour or two of my life.

But as I get there I see a different scene to what it was like the day before. The body of the Two boy lay still beside a girl. The Five girl to be exact. Her breathing laboured as she looks up to the sky, her eyes wide and frightened. I rush to her side, I don't know what I was going to do but as I come closer I can see the large gash at her side, blood still leaking out of it. Her hand completely by her sides, not even attempting to stop the bleeding.

She knows she doesn't have long left.

"Please…" Her voice scared me, it was hoarse, barely a whisper, very weak. "Just...kill me…"

"I-I don't…" I say to her, as I start to cry, up until now I've only killed when they attacked but this…this is different.

"Please…"

I close my eyes, I take the dagger that was by her hand. She too closes her eyes as she puts on a brave face, a smile seems to play on her lips a little bit as I begin to hold the bloody dagger above her. She takes in one big breath and she says something, barely a whisper so that no one could hear other than the both of us.

"Thank…you…"

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train Heading to Two  
A few days before Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour**_

* * *

 _"You know that you're supposed to be on duty?" I tell Lincoln as he scoffed another piece of chocolate with his face with, in my room. "Also, how can you eat so much and not gain so much weight?"_

 _I take the piece of chocolate in his hands and he protested before giving up. He's wearing his Peacekeeper gear, minus the helmet, as he sits up from my bed. He looks at me with a secretive look before putting a finger to his lips._

 _"A Peacekeeper never reveals his secrets." He winks too, and it takes all of my willpower not to swipe that smile off his face. "Anyway, this Arlo kid seemed fucked up by the Games…"_

 _"Most victors would suffer mental illnesses during and after the Games."_

 _"I wonder if little miss Peacekeeper trainee would have a few of these so called 'mental illness'."_

 _"Some are better at hiding it than others." I tell him eating the piece of chocolate that I had taken from him and I can see him already complaining._

 _I know for a fact that Viola Aspen suffers from depression. Wouldn't you if all your family and friends have either died or ostracised you because of the fact? People are scared to form bonds with her thinking they'd get killed but she hides it very well, wearing flowy white dresses. Her angelic smile seems beloved by the Capitol, but she's admitted it to me personally when she visited me one day at my bar that she's very sad, at seventeen she's suffered too much._

 _"Sounds like you're hiding something, my dear friend." Lincoln says taking another chocolate from the box on my bed._

 _"I'm bound by honour, I can't say anything." I tell him, and he frowns at that._

 _"So how well does this Arlo fella get on after his Games?"_

 _"Well I know that he recovers from his time in the arena maybe about a year after it? He befriends next year's victor and he becomes competent enough to train other tributes too." I tell him, and he seems disappointed by the prospect._

 _Arlo Venilia indeed recovered but he was never the same person after that. District Three really did not like him but that was beside the point. What was once a kind and caring boy was still there but when he's alone he knows that he's a murderer, a front of confidence detailed in other victor diaries would be present but within his close friends amongst other victors and their entries would state that he would suffer from anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder._

 _Depression would hit him harder than most victors within the second decade, but he normally deals with that by going to the beach, it seems to wash over anything he had ever felt._


	14. Rooster McCoy

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train Heading to Twelve  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 1**_

* * *

" _The victor is here, and you choose to spend your day off here with me?"_

 _I ask Lincoln this because he sits at my desk just looking over notes and whatnot, his smile on his face never fading at reading it. He looks back and just shrugs before going back to reading. I just shake my head from my bed and just think about how I'm going to work on this victor stories as well as following Julia Aquilla around for the next two weeks._

 _My newfound friendship with Lincoln is odd, it's like I've known him for so long even though he only came into my life maybe a good six months now. He was there when Ashe Barrow trashed my club and he was there to help me tidy it all up, but I still can't figure out what he really wants from me. I can't help but feel like he wants something from me, maybe he doesn't but there's still that feeling rising in the pit of my stomach._

 _Is it company? Relationship?_

 _Lincoln is as much of an enigma as the next couple of victors. Speaking of, Lincoln had gotten up from his position and have sat beside me, peering into the laptop screen and I trying to hide it from his sights. He goes to grab the electronic, but I just take it away further from him and I could not get the sight of his pouting face out of my head as I begin to laugh._

" _What?" He looks at me with a genuine confused face._

" _No peeking!"_

" _You're just mean and cruel," He says with a laugh. "So, can you at least give me a hint on what's going on in the next couple of chapters?"_

" _Well, like I said, this guy ends up befriending Arlo and then the next victor too."_

" _Interesting, is this the first of its kind?"_

" _Sort of."_

 _There's nothing much to say as we stay in comfortable silence. With Lincoln going back to reading whatever he had in his hand. We had just picked up Julia Aquilla, victor of the Eighty-First Hunger Games. We're heading to Twelve right now, but we didn't even interact that much, she was very professional about the meeting but then I was whisked away back into my own room. I feel like I'm under house arrest._

 _Tomorrow._

 _Tomorrow I'll attempt to go and speak with Julia. I might as well do my fake job as Vincent Cait and record the whole Victory Tour. This could be a set of interesting visits to the districts for sure. With Julia being the first Career since Orion Atomos have won the Games. For some reason, I have a feeling that this will kickstart the victor's race again, the Career districts are sure going to start with their training of potential victors once more._

 _I, for one, cannot wait for that._

* * *

 _ **Rooster McCoy, Victor of the 13th Hunger Games  
District Four  
Victory Tour**_

* * *

The Victory Tour is going well, that's what his stylist as well as his escort: Amrit Espinosa and Pedro Gruger respectively, are telling him anyway. There's something restrictive about the entire process, how the cameras portray him as someone that's strong and in control when, in actuality, his own escort is telling him things to say and his stylist is showing him how to dress. His free time dictated with back to back interviews within the lounge carriage of the train, no breaks in between.

Capitol people ask him questions in real time and he answers whatever comes to his head at the time. His favourite colour being dusty brown, how he likes his eggs, his hobbies including helping out in his parent's farm. Almost every question answered was followed by a smile, as instructed by both Pedro and Amrit. There's never enough time for himself to reflect or to even think.

The stylist and the escort are too much to handle but he bites his tongue and leaves it be. Not that he didn't like the two, but they can be quite tiring when you're spending day in and day out with them every single day. The first eight districts went by as such a blur that he couldn't even tell you what he said or what he wore. He watched replies of it all, for future tips and pointers, and is surprised at what he saw.

"You look tired kid," he looks up to see Equss Walker, his rebel mentor, with a glass of whiskey in hand, standing by the doorway. "Take a rest before we get off the train."

"There's no time!" Amrit seemingly appear out of nowhere, barging his way through followed by Pedro. "We need to get you dressed and ready."

"The kid needs at least an hour or so to rest." Equss fights back and stands in front of Rooster. "Give him that much at least, you're working him to death, I'll be surprised if he even sees the Capitol again."

"Fine." Amrit says after a long uncomfortable silence and leaves in a huff.

"One hour," Pedro smiles and then follows the angry stylist.

There's finally some peace as Equss sits beside Rooster on the comfortable brown plush sofa. The train had technically stopped at the station, but it's too early in the morning to really do anything. The crew had left to organise the square for the arrival of the newest victor. They had their cameras and posters ready to hand out to the citizens of Four.

The posters made for his tour, the primary features showcasing his tall stature, the white jacket that every tribute had worn, as well as stained red whenever they were stabbed wearing it. He could remember the last time he saw that blood red colour on the otherwise pristine white coat. He was standing on a cliff edge, the same one that the boy from Nine fell into when Ajax Craik had plunged a sword straight through. Instead of it being a lush green, it was covered in snow.

The arena, the same one used two Hunger Games ago, was now a tundra. Trees had lost their leaves, debris from the year's Hunger Games were gone and instead covered in a white pile of crystallised water, soft yet crunchy under their boots; much like the bones Rooster had heard whenever the Twos or the Ones had encountered a tribute. The season drastically changed to winter, the Capitol flaunting their technological brilliance in front of the whole Panem.

Rooster tend to not think about his arena as he tears his eyes away from the poster on the wall. He was wearing his pyjamas still, one that's specifically suited for him and his tall stature. He sighed as he closes his eyes, rubbing what little sleep he had gathered in his eye sockets. This is going to be a long day, he could tell already.

District Four was quiet in the morning, a lot quieter than Ten is in the morning. The sounds of animals and machinery could be heard before even the sun had risen and would continue to be noisy until the sun had said 'goodnight'.

A noise that the victor now dearly missed as he has been away for nearly a week now.

"How do you feel?" Equss asked him, taking a swig of the light brown alcohol.

"Heavy hearted. Scared. Nervous." He listed out anything and everything he could feel to the man.

Equss Walker had admitted to him, just before they arrived in the district, that he was originally from Four. His family moving right before the start of the war and the Dark Days. Although that didn't really stop him from fighting in the war and instigating rebellion in Ten along with the Ramone family. He could tell that the man was hiding his sorrow at returning to his birthplace, the fact that the man was drinking this early was a dead giveaway; he normally waited until after lunchtime.

"Just read whatever that Pedro had written for you and you should be grand." He says before leaving the carriage, probably in search of some more alcohol.

Rooster did read everything that was written, even though he disagreed with almost every word on the placards. His heart and stomach simultaneously twist into knots when there's something he didn't particularly want to read; the way he feels the vomit burning his throat. His look of nervousness obvious to the crowds he was speaking to.

He felt that way the first time when he spoke of the Twelve boy, how it was written that his sacrifice was for the greater good. How grateful his family should feel that his son had helped him win. The day after that visit ended, Rooster had locked himself in his room ignoring the shouting from both Pedro and Amrit. He just wanted to close his eyes and think of home.

Now here he is, probably going to read about the sacrifices of both Four tributes. He's scared, first of all, that the whole district is going to hate him. Their shot at another victory stolen by some farm boy from Ten. He had to suck it up, there's only three more districts after this one and then he's nearly free. Although he doesn't really know how free he was now that the next Hunger Games are starting after his Victory Tour. He sighed as he goes to where Amrit was to finally get dressed and get this speech over and done with.

It could only go up from here.

* * *

"What do you mean maintenance!?" Amrit practically screams when they get back to the train station a Peacekeeper was standing there telling the stylist about the emergency maintenance.

"There was a malfunction on one of the engines, sir." He tells them, no apologies or anything given. "It would take a day or so to fix but feel free to board the train and wait there."

The stylist sighs and boarded the train, Pedro thanked the Peacekeeper and followed suit. Equss was already inside and Rooster stood there, underneath the clear roof of the station. The sun bathing him in a warm light. He's essentially stuck in Four for a day. Tide was there too; his smile never seems to fade as he taps the boy's shoulder. Rooster turned around and sighed.

"Come and stay at my house," he said. "Even for a little while."

"I might as well," he replies. "Better than staying with those two plus Equss."

Tide seemed to chuckle at that and he led him towards the district, the stage in the square was being torn apart already; getting rid of decorations and general mess. His posters litter the ground, a solemn look on his face within each and every one. He stepped on a couple as he follows the older victor into a streets of market stalls and then streets of fancy looking houses before ending closer to the edge of the district, surrounded by tall block fences, made of limestone or something like that, green vines climbing certain areas.

A large metal gate opens in the middle, the arch had the letters _'Victor's Village'_ on it. His eyes widen at each of the houses or rather villas. All were painted white, reflecting sunlight. In the middle of the district was a fountain, angel statues littered the fountain all playing in the water that's sprouting from the very top. The footpath to each of the villas were gravel as their shoes crunch with every step.

"My house is on the left there." Tide points. "Arlo is opposite mines."

He looked at Tide's house first, a quaint front garden, white picket fence. It's almost too perfect and then he looked towards Arlo's, brand new and still pristine. There's nothing that stands out too much from it, granted it has only been a year since the victor had won.

"Come one, we can talk more inside my house."

As they walk closer to Tide's home, he can see the house clearer. Stone houses that look elegant painted white. The fence swings outwards as Tide walked in. The gravel path lead to the house, grass on either side as well as flowers and other bushes that the victor must have planted. The inside of the house was very different to his own back in Ten. The ranch-like Victor's Village had rustic houses, more like ranch houses as opposed to villa looking ones. Several cliché wild west memorabilia littered his house. Cow-print rug and wooden floors were present.

Tide's house is entirely white, and cooler. The floors were marble or limestone. The walls decorated with pictures of the district and beaches. There's a fireplace with a spear on top pinned to the wall. He recognised immediately that it was the same one that the victor had used in his Games.

"Can't get rid of it." He tells him as he walked into the kitchen. "I've tried several times but it keeps coming back."

Rooster only nodded as he followed suit, Tide was pouring a glass of water then handing it to him. He takes a slow drink, Tide was unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and taking off his tie. He sighed heavily and drank some of the water too. An uncomfortable silence settles, and that's when Rooster thinks about the other victor.

"Will Arlo be joining us?" He asked Tide, but all the victor could do was smile.

"You hungry?" He asked, seemingly ignoring his question. "I'm afraid I can't compete with Capitol food, but fish is on the menu tonight."

"Yeah, sounds good." He replied. "I'll cook for you the next time you're in Ten."

"That, my friend, is a deal." He said as he began to work on the food.

Rooster then excused himself, he wanted to smoke badly ever since finishing the speech earlier. He just didn't want to say anything as he followed the victor through the busy markets and streets of Four. He didn't want to bother the people with his smoke either. He gets the all clear and he steps outside the front door. The air felt fresh as he takes out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his trouser pockets.

He was about to light the cigarette when he sees Arlo Venilia standing outside the fences. He looked angry, Rooster scans his body language, the way the glare from his hazel eyes pierce through his own blue ones. His hand balled up into fists and looking mad as if it's squeezing the life out of something, he tried to ignore his head saying that it was his own neck. The victor just stared back, but just as quick as the anger seem to flash, the boy deflates quickly and then he leaves.

Rooster forgot about the cigarette that is yet to be lit and followed the other victor. His beige suede shoes crunching on the gravel pathway that cuts from the house to the fence. He watched Arlo flee quickly, Rooster struggling to open the gate of the fence as he saw where he went.

The gravel path runs past the fountain, past several other empty houses and down a path, all the way at the other end of the village. A secret sort of path that ramps down onto a secluded beach. The waves lap by slowly and calmly, the sand already burrowing itself into his shoes, he didn't mind as this is the first time he has ever stepped on a beach, ever.

He's seen them before, obviously, on his way to the Capitol when he was reaped, and then back out once he had won. Then again when he made his way to Four for the Victory Tour. The bitter air was cold though as it nipped at his face, ruffling whatever style of hair Amrit had given him this morning. He lights a cigarette, takes a couple of drags from it as he begins to walk towards the beachfront.

"Why did you follow me?" Arlo said as Rooster made his way to stand beside him, hand in his pocket. "Why didn't you just leave me alone?"

He just shrugged his shoulders as he takes another long drag of the cigarette, blows the smoke away from the both of them and then proceed to flick the used stick onto the sandy beach, the water seemingly try to reach it before it gave up and retreats into the ocean.

Arlo picks up the cigarette butt and pockets it, "Don't litter."

Rooster gives a hearty laugh. Arlo eyes him suspiciously and tries to stop the boy from walking closer to the water but he just ignored him and walked closer and closer. His shoes, already sandy, begins to get wet but it feels so nice and so different.

"You know," he started, hands in both pockets as he looked towards the watery horizon. "I've never seen so much water in my life."

"I guess it's all just mountains and plains back in your district."

"Yeah…" It was a solemn agreement; the mention of home makes him feel lonely as he looks down to his now wet shoes.

With a heavy sigh, the victor from Ten sits down on the sand. The charcoal grey suit covered in sand now. He didn't really care, Amrit can shout at him for the rest of the tour for all he likes, he wants to make this moment last. Arlo sit beside him, both of them looking at the horizon. It reminded him of the same horizon from his moment of victory in the Games. After killing the boy from Four with his spear.

"I'm sorry," he says out of the blue. "I…I don't even know what to say."

"It's okay," Arlo says. "I felt the same."

They sit together in silence, comfortable silence. A smile on both their faces but it was soon cut short when someone shouts Rooster's name. They both look back to see that Pedro and Amrit are standing close to the steps leading back to the village. Tide was with them looking on apologetically.

"Well I guess they fixed the train fast," Rooster says standing up, Arlo following soon after. "I swear this isn't the last time you'll see me, I'll come back for this beautiful beach too."

* * *

 _ **Rooster McCoy, Victor of the 13th Hunger Games  
Capitol, Club Valentino's  
14th Hunger Games**_

* * *

There's nothing more tiring than looking for sponsors. The bar was bustling with potential targets for sponsors, but Rooster was too tired. He just wants the day to end, his tributes have a fair shot at the Games, both coming from somewhat strong backgrounds. He has eyed the other tributes too from the replays and he can tell that their only real opposition was the Two tributes. The way both of his tributes hung on to every word he said spurred his willingness to help them further.

Just then he felt a strong smell of aftershave attack his nostrils, but he couldn't help but smile as Arlo sits beside him on the bar stool, promptly orders a whiskey, neat, and gulps it all the way down. He slams the glass on the dark marble counter top earning a few stares. He ignored those stares as he begins to speak.

"Fuck, Ajax." He cursed as he looked to his friend. "The damn buffoon stole my sponsors."

"Well, hello to you too my good friend."

It's true that they ended up being good friends, there's more to their story after their brief encounter in that beach back in Four. Arlo ended up visiting Ten along with Tide. Rooster, or _'Hoss'_ as what he told them to call him from now on, had cooked, or rather his mother did, up a whole meal fit enough for a big family.

They met his family, Rooster's mother and father; his older brothers and then his younger sisters, who all lived in his ranch like home in the Victor's Village of Ten. It was a delight to meet them, everyone was welcoming and soon enough both the Four victors felt like they were home instead of being outsiders.

The smirk that appears in Rooster's face only seemed to foul his friend's mood as he gulped the whiskey that Rooster was nursing too. No complaints were given as he just laughed his very hearty laugh. He ordered another drink for the both of them.

"Sorry," he apologised and wraps an arm around his shoulder to say hello. "Any luck on your end?"

"Not much." He takes a sip of his whiskey feeling it burn down his throat.

"I think you have a real shot." Arlo said as he takes a sip of his own drink.

Little Pablo from Four, Arlo's own tribute, may not be a clean-cut winner but the victor is trying his best to convince sponsors, he gets the believers and ones that likes sad stories but the others not so much. People invest more with their money if they know they have a chance of winning, that's what Rooster is finding out.

"I hope so."

They drink in silence, comfortable with each other. The bustling crowd leave them be as the two of the newest victors drink their alcoholic beverages. They'll try again in a short while just before tributes go out for their interviews. For now, they'll leave the escorts to their jobs of trying to impress potential sponsors with their tributes.

* * *

 _ **One year later...**_

* * *

The bar was bustling again, a year has passed since their talk with each other. Arlo and Rooster have been given yet another chance to gather sponsors but joined by another: Gideon Clerwood of Seven, who seemed less likely to drink but enjoy their company none the same. No love was lost as during his own Games, Gideon had killed both the Ten tributes, who Rooster believed had a great shot of coming home.

He had to do what he could to survive, much like what Rooster had done when he killed Arlo's tributes. Little did they know, is that a little girl from Ten would outsmart the whole system of the Games through unconventional means that it set a precedent for future Games to follow.

* * *

 _ **A/N - Amended 4/2/19**_


	15. Gideon Clerwood

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train Heading to Eleven  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 2**_

* * *

 _A short hop from Twelve to Eleven is all this crew needed. It was an uneventful time back in Twelve, with no victors to entertain us after the speech and a very solemn place to be, we quickly hightailed it back to the train, the whole event lasted maybe about three hours. No one was there to stop us leave either, not even any fans, although Twelve has been struggling in general._

 _I drink the whiskey in my hand as I rub my head, this is going to be a long two weeks. We're already on our way to Eleven, it's not too far but it'll take most of the day and then we'll be there. I shiver at the thought of meeting Ashe Barrow once more, having already trashed my bar when he had won, with Robin Malus profusely saying sorry to me. I waived any payment she offered me, it was a wild night for sure but after that I made sure to hire extra security._

 _There's no point dwelling in that for now as I get up to pour myself another glass. The ice in the glass clink as I move to the drink cart. Lincoln, my only form of company, is gone; on guard duty. This whole dining cart is empty, save for stylist: Arlette Houx. An up and coming newbie stylist. No other information on her either._

 _All i've gathered from my limited interaction with her is that s_ _he's shy and quiet but her designs and styles are fast getting popular, no doubt Julia's victory had something to do with that but also the fact that she only designs pantsuits for the victor to wear and very few dresses. To be fair on her, it does compliment the victor very well. Julia always looked out of place wearing dresses and it shows._

" _So, tell me more about yourself." I ask as I sit opposite her on the table._

 _Her side of the table is scattered with papers, designs, felt, cloths and various drawing tools. Her hair, a bright pink, is anything but neat as it's tied up and away from her face. The look of concentration breaking from her soft features, she looks at me with similar faded pink eyes. She looks exhausted to be speaking to me already and I've only just started._

" _There's nothing much to tell," she says looking at me suspiciously. "I was born in the Capitol and have never been out of it, this is my first time."_

" _Same here." I say with a sip of the alcohol._

" _Really?" She looks at me before going back to designing whatever, I try to peek but it's all just a mess of colour from where I'm looking._

 _The silence growing is far too fast and uncomfortable. I down the drink again and think about other questions to ask. This could potentially help with compiling information on the current living victors. I cough to get her attention but to no avail. She's concentrating hard on her designs, or rather concentrating hard on ignoring me._

" _Julia's quite a character, huh?" I say out of the blue._

" _Yeah, she's great." She says as lines spout from the pencil she was holding._

" _Any gossip?"_

" _Mr. Cait." She stops what she's doing to look at me. It takes me a while that she meant me, forgetting briefly that I had changed my name. "I have deadlines, so if you can kindly leave me in peace I wou-"_

" _I wouldn't be doing my job, Ms. Houx, if I don't ask questions."_

" _Gossip shouldn't be put into Government documents; rumours and the like belong in some sleazy Capitol magazine."_

 _Just then, I found that Arlette Houx, isn't like any other stylists I know. She's going to be a tough nut to crack, if I can get information, just a little smidgeon would benefit me greatly. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I cough once more, this time I can hear the audible sigh._

" _If you really want information…" She starts, trying to see if she'll regret what she's about to say or not._

" _I'll be honest with you, Ms. Houx," I start before she finishes. "Provide me with information and then I will leave you alone."_

 _This seems to be a great deal enough for her as she lets go of her pencils and look at me directly, the once soft features seem contorted to more of a mild annoyance directed at me. Which is fine, I'm not here to make friends, just to get information. She takes a long time, another sigh escaping her pink lips._

" _She told me the other day that she was given an offer by the President himself." She starts and then I let her continue. "You see, Julia was trained in the Peacekeeper facility in Two: The Nut. She volunteered for the Games to help her brother, having no family other than him. Once she was announced victor, she got the job offer a day or two after. She accepted it, naturally, as she didn't even want to mentor future victors."_

" _Why is that, I wonder?" I ask myself out loud more than her but all she did was shrug her shoulders._

" _I didn't pry, it's not my job." She tells me and then picks up her pencils again and without looking up from her focus she spoke to me, "Now if I can get some peace, please, Mr. Cait."_

 _I nod my head, not that she'll see me nod my head, and I take my leave. Not before pouring myself another glass of the good stuff. I make my way back to my room, ideas needing to be written down. I'm tearing myself through the first couple of decades in the Games' history._ _Already, I'm nearly halfway through the second decade, maybe by the time the Victory Tour is over I'll have finished it and will have moved on to the third. There's something in me that's excited about it, with the very first Quarter Quell happening during that decade._

 _But, for now I'll worry about the next couple of tributes._

* * *

 _ **Gideon Clerwood, District Seven Male, 17**_

* * *

There's something off about the way he rose up from the platform. How his stylist, Hermes Terry, was reluctant in answering all the questions that managed to come out of his mouth. His outfit screamed plain, all white. Shirt and shorts with socks and shoes. Nothing else. Still, something felt off as his platform as the glass dipped down and covered him, the way Hermes, with his extravagant fluffy white coat and short brown and gold hair turn and leave without saying goodbye.

All thoughts seem to vanish as the light invaded his eyes, entering the arena, his eyes adjusted to the morning light. The wind was still, the rays of the sun barely warms his exposed arms and legs as he stared around him.

They're all here.

The tributes, all twenty-four of them, started in a flat meadow. Flowers, white and yellow, scatter across vibrant green grass. Birds and other animals seem to run away at the sight of all of them at once. The meadow was surrounded by a massive forest, trees of all kinds; some he had seen back home in Seven and others he had not. Even still, there are trees that are huge, bigger than he had ever seen in Seven; coloured a rust red with giant branches.

There's a countdown being projected high above all of them. It became all real of a sudden as he searched the scattered individuals for his best friend and district partner: Melisabelle Broan. He spotted her, closer to the Twelve boy and Eleven girl. He locked eyes with her around the thirty second mark and they nod to each other.

When the timer hits zero, all hell broke loose. Everyone stepped off their platform, some collided with others and some already on the ground being beaten to a pulp. The carnage felt like a riot as Gideon ran towards his friend. He dodged a swing from some tribute he didn't know, then jumped over a crying girl to reach her, they hug briefly as they hold hands and run towards the direction of the forest, back to where they can be comfortable.

They seem to run for what seems like forever until they stop by a tree, one of those redwoods that Gideon first saw when he entered the arena. It is then that he had noticed that Melisabelle was holding a bright white pack; a smile on her face. At this point he could have hugged her until the night drew in, he never even thought about grabbing something.

"When…"

"Just before you got to me, I spotted it behind me." She said as she sat down and emptied its contents on the ground.

"A dagger." Gideon said as he sat opposite her. "That's it?"

"Looks like it." She said with a shrug.

The day is still strong, they've ran away from the initial start position. That was around an hour or so now. They didn't even look back as they pass by fallen branches and big roots. Running within the forest felt like home to them both, something they both done frequently in Seven. There's something about being in this arena of the Hunger Games that made Gideon think about home suddenly. He didn't want to think about it as much. He was happy to be away from his family after seventeen years of growing up feeling trapped.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Melisabelle asked him.

"Nothing." He replied with a smile. "Just thinking about home."

"Me too." She said, although it was followed by a sigh.

He knew why she sounded so dejected. The way she hung her head low that her long dirty blonde hair covers most of her face, as if to hide her sadness away. The sadness and realisation that only one of them is going to make it back home. He extended his arm, to caress her shoulders lightly to comfort her. She looks up, hair swept to a side and tucked behind ears. The green in her eyes meeting his own brown ones. He hated seeing Melisabelle like this, so he comes close and embraces her into a warm hug; one that she returns earnestly.

"Thanks," she said to him. "You always know what to do."

"That's what I'm here for." He said to her.

They spend the next few hours wandering the forest, stopping briefly when they think someone is nearby. Most of the times it's just another forest animal and others it was just a gust of wind. They were alone in this patch of the forest but there's always something, a feeling that someone is out there.

It was dark by the time they reached another one of those larger trees. Gideon collapses first and leans back on it. The night time sky obscured by the canopy of leaves and branches, but he could see the stars and the sky through gaps. Melisabelle looks at him and then at the sky as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Who do you think is left out there?" She asked after a little while.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "The Tens looked really strong this year."

"They do, and so do the Twos." She added.

As the silence settles they were both alerted to the sound of the anthem. Gideon has heard this anthem all throughout his life. The feeling of dread was the only emotion that it could dredge up inside him.

"The faces of the fallen…" Melisabelle whispered, more to herself but it was loud enough to be heard.

They looked up, seeing only patches of the projection. He counted, or at least tried to count the faces as they changed. His friend too counted but as the faces changed from both the Eight tributes, Gideon had lost count as his eyelids became heavy suddenly; brown eyes close as his head rests on Melisabelle's already sleeping one.

* * *

When they awoke the next morning, bright and early, both had decided that they should always be on the move, but not before Gideon had grabbed a bunch of branches. He sat by their place beside the redwood tree, he took the dagger out from the white pack and immediately started getting to work.

"What are you doing?" His district partner asked as she sat beside him.

"Sharpening these branches," he said as he slid the dagger across the wooden stick, they watched as it shaved off parts of it. "So that we have weapons if we ever encounter anyone."

Melisabelle looked at him funny, or surprised, it was an expression that Gideon has never seen on her before. She looked at the blade of the dagger as it slid across the stick once more. He didn't notice the way her mood had changed, as if something within her had awakened.

Another hour of silence between the two and Gideon was finally finished, four clumsily crafted spears using the only tool he had. It wasn't bad, it looked like it was still blunt enough to not spear through someone but only time will tell.

"Let's go." Gideon said as he tucked the dagger in his white shorts, now covered in dirt and mud.

"Okay…" She said as she took two of the spears and handed the rest to him.

They wandered for a couple of hours, stopping only when there's a cannon ringing across the arena. Then they would start again, somewhere out there is a tribute or tributes that are killing others. There's a small relief within Gideon that they have at least weapons with them, despite the hunger and thirst building up inside them both. It's true that they've not eaten anything substantial in the last day or two, maybe finding berries that looked like those back in Seven, but they were always cautious.

Gideon has gone a day or two without food before, whenever he had disappointed his father or had disobeyed him, he would be sent up to his room with no dinner. He didn't mind it though, he escapes every night despite it all and return when daybreaks. He didn't know if Melisabelle can last long without food, being from a slightly more richer part of the district.

Another cannon and they've stopped once more. Then they hear more rustling, Gideon disregarded it as an animal in his head but then they both hear voices. That's when Melisabelle, who had been behind him all this time approached him closer.

"Who is it?" She whispered.

"I don't know, but they're getting closer."

It was the Two tributes. Gideon's eyes widened first, and his breath hitched as he made eye contact with them. There was maybe a silent minute or so before the Twos broke into a run towards them both. Melisabelle reacted first, pulling on him as they ran away into the trees.

"We'll outsmart them." She said between breaths, as she looked back to see them fast closing the distance.

"How?"

"Trees, Gideon, we've been playing hide and seek within them for over a decade now."

Gideon gave her a smirk and they separated after that. Melisabelle disappeared behind one oak tree and Gideon behind a pine. He could hear the footsteps as they grounded to a halt. He heard the boy swear out loud and then their footsteps began to move again, slower this time as if they were searching for them.

They all hear the rustling, and that's when Melisabelle attacked, her spear jabbing lightly at the Two girl before running behind another tree, she followed her but as she got there she had vanished. Gideon saw her as she looked completely outraged. He took this as a chance to strike, he sneaked past tree after tree and as he had gotten closer, he lunged forward, stick piercing her knee. Her scream was primal and animalistic, and he pulled the coarse wood out and he ran behind another tree.

"He's behind that tree!" She screamed as her district partner arrived to help her.

Two boy rushed towards the tree Gideon had disappeared behind but was stopped when Melisabelle appeared from a nearby one, her stick hitting him in the face. The boy, shocked, stumbled backwards and ended up falling. Gideon took this as a chance and appeared from behind the tree and used his weapon to stick it straight through his heart.

The cannon was immediate. It shocked not only Gideon but also Melisabelle and the Two girl, who held her breath. She looked at her now dead partner and at the two of them. That's when the mood changed, she started to beg for her life but Melisabelle ended her quickly with a stick to her side.

They left her to bleed out. The two of them walked away from the carnage of the encounter and stopped as they approached yet another redwood. The Two tributes faces were on the sky that night and it had affected them both.

As they rest for the night, or as best of a rest they could muster from their weary souls, parachutes of gifts drop in front of them. Sponsors. They looked around, as if they would see where it would have come from and as they opened the two smallish boxes they were shocked to see two silver metallic hatchets.

"This is it." Gideon said as he discarded the last of the spears. "Don't you see? Mel, we could win with these."

He didn't even care that he said _'we'_ because for the first time since the death of the Two tributes, he felt better. A renewed vigour welled up inside him as he had forgotten about the events that had transpired earlier. He took one hatchet and handed the other to his best friend.

He didn't notice the way her mind seemed to have wandered.

* * *

The two were awoken by another set of cannons, one after the other. The birds that were once chirping had now disappeared, the warmth of the morning sun seemed to have vanished and everything felt a bit colder. Gideon looked to his side and was about to say something when he saw the glint of something coming towards him. He backed away on the ground before standing up quickly.

Melisabelle, his best friend for more than a decade, looked at him as if he was a stranger. The once green eyes filled with warmth seemed drained from everything much like the sun. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up, a notion that he understood quickly and symbolised seriousness from Melisabelle.

"Hey, Mel, it's alright…" He says holding his hands out, wide and cautious.

"It's you or me, Gideon," she says. "I'd rather it be me."

Scared for his life, Gideon dashed, he picked up his own hatchet as he narrowly avoided the one that Melisabelle held. He ran from her, his eyes pricked with heat and tears as he ran past countless trees, avoided their branches and stepped over rooted obstacles. He looked back once, Melisabelle right behind him.

She was always the one to chase after him, whenever they played together in the forest of pine trees, but this time at the end of the day only one of them will be alive. He looked forward after that and stopped.

The Tens.

Their swords still dripping with blood from whatever, or whoever, they had killed. Melisabelle too had stopped as she saw them both. Her eyes flicked between him and then the two of them.

Then the Ten boy's sword struck first, Gideon blocked it with his hatchet, metal on metal cause sparks to fly. The sword was heavier and stronger, and Gideon ricocheted backwards into Melisabelle and the two fell to the ground.

"We're going to have to work together." He said to her but the girl he once knew was no longer there as she lunged forwards with her hatchet.

Gideon sighed as he followed her lead, he was stopped by the boy and they continued the fight. Ten had the upper hand as he followed with strike after strike. He was being backed into one of those big redwood trees, and as soon as he had his back to it he ducked out of the way of a large swing. The sword had embedded itself into the rust red trunk and Gideon took this as an opportunity to swing his hatchet at the boy's chest. It struck him, the white shirt stained a dark red fast and the boy stumbled backwards, hatchet still stuck to him.

The boy fell to the ground and just as he did his cannon sounded, but then it was followed by another. He looked up and was overwhelmed by grief as he saw Melisabelle on the ground, blood blossoming from her stomach. He was shocked at first and then anger rose quickly. He walked over to the Ten boy's body to retrieve his hatchet when he was tackled to the ground by the girl.

"Oh no you don't." She says as dirty, cold hands made their way to his neck.

There was a moment in which his life flashed before his eyes. Sad faces looked at him, friends abandoning him one by one until only Melisabelle was the only one left. His father's lectures on how to maintain the family business, with him being the sole heir of his papermill empire. His mother pleading him to return when he was reaped. Thomas Trellia, their only mentor telling them to stick together, only for Melisabelle to betray him three days later.

He remembered the dagger tucked into his shorts, surprised that it had not fallen during the action prior. He fought the girl off at first, trying to free his neck from the tightness. He succeeded momentarily before her hands came back, he could feel his eyes go blurry and his breathing beginning to slow but he managed to take the dagger and he plunged it with all his strength into side the girl's neck.

Soon he felt the hands loosened as it retreated to her own neck, he backed away on the ground, bumping into the cold corpse of the Ten boy. He watched as the girl choked on her own blood, the dagger still stuck there. Her eyes were open wide, the blood she coughed was disgusting and sticky. It dripped from her mouth onto her white blouse, then the ground. She collapsed soon after, her hands fell onto her side, her breaths coming in slow and gargled.

Then her cannon resounded across the arena.

* * *

 _ **Gideon Clerwood  
Victor of the Fourteenth Hunger Games  
Victor's Village**_

* * *

There were times where Gideon thinks too much about his own Games. Those were the times where he doesn't really care much for company. His father had long left him alone and had stopped bothering him to take over the papermill as the sole heir, instead he sold it to some other rich middle-class family. His mother, grief stricken from Gideon's reaping that she ended up committing suicide on the day he had left the serene forests of Seven and exchanged it for the nightmare that was the Hunger Games' forest.

Gideon could never forgive himself for what had happened, although he had never promised to protect her, Melisabelle was his only friend growing up in Seven but just as he learned during his time in the arena, the Hunger Games changes people; turns them from innocent children to vicious monsters.

A slow drink from the beer in his hand alerted him back to the present. His fireplace was lit on the cold winter night, firewood freshly chopped from this morning by none other than him. His own thoughts ran away from him once again.

He's sat on the chair, his brown eyes reflecting the dancing fire. His eyes trained on the hatchet and dagger placed above the fireplace on the mantle. He didn't want it, of course no one ever wanted a reminder of what they were in the Games, but it was a 'gift' from the President. He has tried to get rid of it, several times since coming home from his tour, but it always appears as soon as he leaves the lounge.

A reminder that no one can truly escape their history, no matter how much you try to get rid of it.


	16. Maybelle Davis

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train Heading to Ten  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 4**_

* * *

 _District Eleven is so vast and huge that it takes more than a day or two to cross. Not that I'm bothered by it, more time to relax before the chaos ensues again. The concept of the Victory Tour has always fascinated me, so far there doesn't seem to be any form of enthusiasm coming from the two districts we've visited already._

 _Is that what it's like? During the Reapings too?_

 _I furiously scroll through the electronic tablet in my hands. The train sometimes make a rumbling sound that makes me uneasy, but the journey is always smooth. Currently I'm sitting at the back of the train, the very end. Wide windows show the tracks we had just been on mere seconds ago. A sea of greenery passes us like nothing._

 _It's safe to say that Eleven was much the same as Twelve. Tired looking eyes; tired look faces as they stand there to listen to someone so patriotic talk about how her victory will help the Capitol and of course Panem. If I was to critique the speech, it doesn't really tell on how it can help Panem._

" _Oh, did you want to be alone?" I look up to see the very same victor that gave the lacklustre speech._

" _No, no sit if you want." I tell her quickly as I put the tablet down._

 _Julia Aquilla, eighteen years of age, recovering very well from her 'traumatic' experience from the Games. Although watching her compete in those Games, I couldn't really see any form of traumatic events, other than the other kids she had killed._

" _District Ten next?" I say out loud._

" _Yeah." She replied, quiet as a mouse, sweeping away blonde locks from her face._

" _So…" I start, and she looks to me with attention, better than her stylist did two days ago. "Is it okay if I ask some questions?"_

" _Go ahead Mr. Cait." She says as she makes a cup of what appears to be tea from the drinks cart._

" _You Games, it was intense, how are you coping? What's next for you?" Two questions back to back, test the waters to see what she wants to do._

" _I prefer not to talk about what happened in the arena, if you don't mind. You can watch all of it when the official tapes are released." She tells me, sitting back down with her cup of tea. "As for what's next…I've accepted a job offer."_

 _She didn't seem sure and I wanted to press on. It's definitely the same offer that Arlette was talking about, but this is the first time she's telling me about it. In fact, this is the longest time I've ever interacted with the victor._

" _You look unsure, if you don't mind me asking." I tell her, and she looks at me and smiles._

" _A little bit…but I know that it's what I've always wanted to do." She tells me. "I joined the Hunger Games because at that time I was desperate, I wanted to provide for my little brother, since our parents are no longer here anymore."_

" _I'm sorry to hear that." I tell her, and she gives a faint smile before taking another sip. "How long ago?"_

" _During the Victor's Purge." She says not making eye contact. "They were part of the Peacekeeper squad tasked with taking down the Twelve and Eleven victors; safe to say the victors didn't go down fighting."_

" _I see…" There's a sombre silence that's settles between the two of us, with me trying to think of more questions but at the same time this girl in front of me doesn't deserve anymore questions._

" _Well I think you should go for whatever job offer this is." I tell her out of the blue and she looks at me with surprised eyes. "Unless you're really not set on mentoring?"_

 _She laughs at my last question. Just a normal laugh that seems to calm to a comfortable smile as she takes another sip of the still warm cup of tea. She looks out the windows, as if trying to think of what to say but I guess she already knew what to say._

" _Orion can handle the mentoring, he's not good but he needs to improve." She tells me without looking away. "I don't think mentoring was for me."_

* * *

 _ **Rexton Price  
Head Gamemaker  
Six months before the Fifteenth Hunger Games  
His Apartment, Capitol**_

* * *

It felt so nice to relax. Another stressful but successful Hunger Games in the bag thanks to him and his team of what is now being dubbed as Gamemakers, coined by him through whispers. He wanted to make it sound cool and the word stuck becoming a buzzword and spreading around the Capitol like wildfire.

He's taking a small break. The planning for the next Hunger Games can wait as he de-stressed with a cup of coffee on his comfortable beige couch. He doesn't feel like going out and celebrating like his best friend and fellow Deputy Head Gamemaker Elbert Korando.

Just as he was about to take the first sip of his cooled down coffee there was a knock on his door. Dressed still in his pyjamas, the man sighed out loud as he set the very same beverage he had been looking forward to since he had woken up on the table as he made his to the door, the person on the other side insistently knocking on the door too.

"I don't want any- "

He stopped as soon as he opened the door and took as step back. In front of him, dressed in a maroon two-piece suit with brown suede shoes was President Laomedes Augustus. His smile, menacing and his eyes, a piercing green, stares through his soul like a telescope. He stuttered as he tried to form coherent words, but nothing was coming out. He had interacted with the man before but never in his own home.

The man patted him on the shoulder as he walked past Rexton and took a seat on the same spot he was on prior to his arrival. He takes the coffee mug and takes a sip, he sets it down but not before taking a coaster from the pile on the end table beside the couch and putting it on top.

"What a lovely home you have here, Rexton." He said to him, he pats the space beside him and all the other man could do was nod and sit beside him. "I would like to congratulate you on another job well done, the Hunger Games have become a lot more exciting since you started."

"T-thank you sir," he said, and he was going to follow up, but he was interrupted by the man, unemotionally, of course.

"But the Capitol wants more."

"…more, sir?"

"My wife, Hera, has expressed a better start to the Hunger Games."

"What does she mean by that?

"Well, the pre-Games are terribly short, aren't they? She thinks that the tributes get a chance to train for the three days before going into the arena to fight to the death. Could you imagine? It gives everyone a somewhat fair chance to win, which increases the betting and making it harder to predict who the winners are."

"Why the sudden shift?"

"I've been watching the Hunger Games since the start, Rexton," he tells the younger man. "I'm not blind that district Two and One are gearing up to win. As much as I like those districts, it would become terribly boring if it's just those two districts becoming victorious year after year."

"Right." Rexton says as he began to think of concepts in his head. "So, the training will give other tributes a chance."

"Correct!"

"That is a good idea, but I cannot guarantee that weapons could appear all the time or if the same items can appear, and what if the tributes fight each other?"

All the President does is pat him in the back as he finishes the cup of coffee that the man had made earlier for himself. He gives him another one of his dazzling smiles and stands up. Rexton following suit and they walked to his front door.

"I'm sure a smart man like you will figure it out."

With that he thanked him for the coffee, critiqued his choice in pyjamas as well as telling him to tidy up his house a bit more; before closing the door completely leaving Rexton scratching his head as he stares at the now closed beige coloured door.

* * *

"Training?"

Elbert Korando said standing at the other side of his office desk in the Gamemaker office. They're pretty high up and the floor to ceiling windows display the majesty that is the Capitol. Dizzying, yes, but worth it in his eyes. Rexton Price liked to look out of it once in a while to think but after her dropped the bombshell of 'training' to his deputy the man just simply never left his side, a bag full of questions.

"How in the hell are we supposed to implement that!?"

"I don't know." Sighed an exhausted Rexton. "We also need to make it fairer."

"What about on the last day of training?"

"Last day?"

"Let me finish," Elbert cried out and Rexton rolled his eyes, he hated when the man became like this; it's like a rambling child when you asked him what happened to him at school.

"Training will last three days, we'll stock it stations of all sorts like spears and swords but they're blunt, can't risk tributes killing each other before the main event…"

Well that solved the hurting the tributes before the Games thing he had been pondering about. He just sat there and listened to the man ramble on some more, ideas in his own head forming the longer he continued to talk. However, he wanted to know about what's going to happen on the last day.

"Okay, but what's going to happen on the last day?" He asked suddenly, and Elbert looked at him with exasperation.

"I was just getting to it," he said. "On the last day we'll hold private sessions; where the tributes show us what they have learned; then we rank them."

"Rank?"

Yeah, we give them scores based on how much they have impressed us; 12-11 being virtually impossible to achieve; 10-8 for impressive; 7-5 for mediocre; then 4-1 for poor."

"Why have the first two if no one can achieve it?"

"12…for twelve districts…"

"Right…" He rolled his eyes once more, Elbert was sentimental like that, he loved the districts more than he cared to admit. "Where will we set up all of this training place thing, then?"

"Down on the basement of the tribute centre."

"So, they'll get off from the train then go to the remake centre up for the interviews…"

"Actually," Elbert said as he approached Rexton closer, this time sitting down on one of the seats. "I say we move interviews on the last day, so they can talk about their scores."

"We're going to broadcast the scores?" Rexton said, getting into the ideas as he leaned forward, interest piqued. "This can attract the sponsors."

"Exactly!" Elbert clicks his fingers.

"Okay, then they get 'remade' in the remake centre, then straight to training?"

"Yeah, I'll have to think about that." Elbert relaxed on the seat as he looked up at the plain white ceiling. "I guess they can have a day of rest, so that they don't have to immediately jump into training. I'll have to work out the kinks."

That's how the new schedule of the Hunger Games was concepted. A conversation between best friends on what they counted as a lunch break, although they never really ordered lunch. It made for a more compelling stay in the Capitol too, and a chance for sponsors to deliberate who they really want to sponsor instead of going on the fly.

The tributes would get off from the train after the Reapings and then immediately escorted to the remake centre; they decided that they'll give the tributes the rest of the day as they had decided that three days of training would suffice. The last day would be a half day, with private sessions in the afternoon then an interview with Phineus Keenzest a couple of hours after that.

"What about the start of the Games itself?" Rexton posed a question, he had written it down on his scrap piece of paper.

"A Cornucopia."

"A what?"

"You know, ' _horn of plenty_ '; a symbol of abundance and nourishment."

"What has that got to do with what I asked."

"Rexton, sometimes I don't know why you're in that position and not me." Elbert sighed as he took the piece of paper from him as well as the pen.

He flipped the scrap paper and drew a circle.

"This circle is going to be the start of the Games." He said as he drew a square in the middle. "This is the Cornucopia, we can shape it whatever we want but for now let's say it's just crates and whatnot."

"What's going to be in it?" Rexton asked although he already had a pretty good idea.

"We'll put weapons, swords, spears, whatever the tributes were using during either the private sessions or during training." Elbert said as he drew lines and listing them down. "Let's add packs too filled with food and other things to spice it up."

"Where did you get this idea from anyway?" Rexton said, he was starting to agree that maybe Elbert would be better suited for his job after all.

"Well last year's Games was a success here in the Capitol, they really liked the ' _bloodbath_ ' when we decided to group everyone together at the start of the Games, the circle was an inspiration to the First Hunger Games."

"So, this will increase tribute interaction, as well as satisfy the bloodlust of not only the Capitol but also the President and his wife."

"Yes, basically."

"Well then, that's that." Rexton said as he stood up. "Let's get to planning."

* * *

 _ **Rachel Davis  
District Ten  
Reaping Day**_

* * *

It was especially hot on this particular Reaping day. Rachel Davis, eldest of all the Davis siblings is up early as usual making breakfast. Their father out working so he can earn a few more money before the day ends. Her other two brothers, Heilan and Weston out working too in the nearby ranch; that meant there's only three others left in their tiny home on the outskirts of Ten.

It's a busy household but they get by, Rachel studying hard to be one of those fancy scientists tasked in researching the cattle in the district, it's a recent development and she was one of few people that excelled in her class at school and she was offered the opportunity.

She accepted it, at the age of eighteen after the Reaping, she had survived the terrible event that is the Hunger Games and meant she could focus on getting a job. She was liking it so far and her parents and other siblings seem supportive about it all, which is all she needed to continue.

The eldest sibling made her way to one of the rooms, knocked on the door and entered it. Her youngest brothers, Joseph and Logan, stir awake but she told them to get ready for breakfast or else they won't get any.

She made her way to her own room, one she shared with her only sister, and opened the door to tell Maybelle Davis to get ready too. An affirmative groan told her that her sister will get ready a lot faster than her two sleepy brothers.

She made her way downstairs now, her mother busy making breakfast. She told her that everyone should be making their way downstairs now and that she started to mix the porridge on the large pot.

"Go and help your brother, Logan, please." Marie, their mother, told her and all she does is nod her head.

She knew that it was his first Reapings. This will be Maybelle and Joseph's fourth and third Reaping, then her brother, Weston, his last. She was worried for everyone none the same. Ever since the start of the Hunger Games, she had watched every single one with horror on her face. Imagining her siblings being in their situation is not worth it but her mind slips sometimes.

"There you go." She smiled at Logan who gave her a smile too, although it seemed forced. "I'll see you downstairs, okay?"

She left the room and made her way downstairs once more only too meet Maybelle at the bottom of the stairs. She looked beautiful as always. A yellow sundress, that belonged to Rachel and used for the Reapings too. Her sister suited it better than she ever did.

"You look beautiful." She told her, and Maybelle gave her a small smile as she made her way to the lounge.

Weston then bursts through the front door, his hair covered with hay; his clothes muddy from a day's labour that all Rachel could do was look in horror. The Reapings are in an hour or so and he came home late as well as dirty.

"You need to get ready! Where have you been!? Where's your brother?" She practically shouts at him and all he does is roll his eyes.

"He's coming, I know this looks worse, but I'll get freshened up."

"There's no hot water left."

"It's hot anyway." He said leaving his shoes, caked in mud, by the shoe rack and made his way up to his shared room with Heilan.

Joseph and Logan are already in the kitchen eating their porridge, but Maybelle was still in the lounge just staring out the window. She wanted to say something, but she knew that her sister always gets like this before every Reaping.

Weston comes down after a couple of minutes, clean as he will ever get, eats a bit of porridge and goes to leave for the Reaping. Maybelle followed suit with Joseph and Logan. She told them that she'll be there soon with Heilan and their parents.

* * *

 _ **Logan Davis  
District Ten; Justice Building  
After the Reapings**_

* * *

He never put much thought into it. It was his first ever Reaping and he remained unscathed and so did his brothers, Weston and Joseph. However, his sister, Maybelle, is not so lucky as they all sit around her, crying.

He didn't think that crying was for girls, not really, and that's why his tears and sobs had not stopped since he entered the lavish room of the Justice Building, a slice of what the Capitol is. He was closest to Maybelle, his hand gripping hers and the other to his face as it wiped away tears.

No one had spoken for a long time, instead just sobbing and crying. Their parents taking it the hardest. Three of their children were finally clear of Hunger Games but at the cost of one daughter going to the Capitol.

"You have ten minutes." The rude Peacekeeper told them as he opened the gilded white doors and shuts it again.

That's when the crying had stopped, although a few sobs and tears still poured from their eyes. Their parents go first, as they hug his sister and said their goodbyes; followed by Rachel who was still sobbing. Her hug nice and warm as she apologised profusely. Heilan and Weston give their hug one after the other, silent, from the shock? He didn't know. Joseph follows them another long hug, he whispered something to her ear and she just looked forward, her eyes red from the tears. Then finally it was his turn, he goes to hug her, same as Joseph he whispered something to her ear also.

"Please come home."

Then the Peacekeeper opened the door again and guided them out of the expensive looking room. They all glanced back, a final goodbye, not knowing if they would ever see her alive again.

* * *

 _ **Rooster McCoy  
Victor of the Thirteenth Hunger Games  
Train to Capitol**_

* * *

He got a letter from the Capitol the other day. It explained the changes that were happening to the current routine of the Games. Their escort, Pedro Gruger, also reaffirms the changes. He wasn't keen on tributes training, but he still told his tributes to do it and fight for their freedom.

"So, training will last three days, two full days and one, half day." He told them at the dinner cart, they were eating, although he and Pedro the only ones really eating.

"Why aren't you keen on tributes training?" Daley Ramone, a rebel son, questioned him. "Don't you want to give us a chance."

"Look," Rooster looked at him with a stern face. "I don't know what it's like, you're going to be shoved into a basement with twenty-three other children; I don't know how that's going to turn out."

"Whatever." The boy said as he played with his food once more.

He could feel the awkwardness ever since they all sat down for their meal. Rebel sons and daughters have been getting reaped consistently, he noted, ever since the First Hunger Games. Daley would be his first rebel tribute and it's proved to be tougher than ever.

Maybelle, on the other hand, was quiet and young. She looked nervous from the get go but she seemed to have relaxed now that Rooster had spoken to her. Although, she looked on edge as she sat beside Daley.

"Do you want to talk strategy now or later?" He asked Daley first and the boy said that he'll go second. "Well, Maybelle, would you like to follow me?"

The girl nodded her head as they excused themselves from the table and into another part of the train. She looked around the next room, soft plush pillows and similarly softer sofas lined the sides of the cart. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling as it rocked with the train.

"Let's sit there." He pointed, and Maybelle sat on the soft seat. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks." She said, and Rooster nodded and poured himself a drink.

"Right." He said as he sat beside her. "What are you thinking?"

"I-I don't know."

"It's okay."

That's all he said to her as she excused herself. She made up a reason, he knew she was lying but he let it go. Maybelle Davis may surprise him later but right now she's tired of what's transpired for the day. He nearly drinks all of the alcohol in his glass when Daley had walked in.

"Listen." He starts as he paced the room, clearly upset about something. "I'm not playing their Game."

"Then you die." He said plain and simple.

He stayed silent and stopped, he stared at the victor. He wanted to say something but decided against it as he left without another word. He followed the boy, not too closely, he walked past a smiling Pedro and into the other compartments of the train.

"Our tributes this year aren't as strong as the ones before." Pedro frowned.

Rooster McCoy just shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to assume something so fast, like he thought earlier. Daley and Maybelle can both surprise them, in more ways than one.

* * *

 _ **Daley Ramone  
District Ten, Male  
Training Centre, Day 1**_

* * *

Dressed in a form fitting outfit and freshly cleaned by his so-called 'stylists'. Daley Ramone has never felt so raw and embarrassed in the eighteen years he has been alive. He stood there beside Maybelle, her hair looked different, in fact everything about her looked different.

They were guided by their stylists into the training centre as twenty-two other tributes stare at them. He can tell that some looked nervous, scared even, but the others he felt an uneasy disgust for. The way their chests are proudly puffed and the air around them filled with what he can only surmised as pride. He, however, was sulking along with his now nervous looking district partner.

The Gamemaker, or rather the killer of twenty-three children, Rexton Price stood in front of them all. A smile on his face, his suit looked like it cost a lot of money. His hair a messy shade of brown. He wanted to just run up to him and punch that face but as he looked around more he could see Peacekeepers in every corner and side of the large basement walls.

"Welcome!" His voice was filled with pep that almost made Daley's eyes roll out of his head. "This is training, first ever too, now I hope that your escorts and mentors have explained the gist of it all. However, I'll explain it once more."

He turned around for a second and walked to one of the stalls that scattered the area; filled with so many swords that he could spend a day a bit to just count them. He lifted one of the swords, a short one that gleamed the light of the ceilings.

"This," he gesticulates with the sword. "Is the sword station of training, where you can practice using a sword against a dummy."

He walked up to a scarecrow looking dummy and stabbed it with such force that it scares half the tributes. He then pointed with the sword, after he had ripped the sword from the scarecrow white cotton everywhere, at someone close to the station.

"Or fight against one of our specially trained trainers for some pointers." Everyone looked at the trainer, looked friendly enough as she smiled at everyone.

"There are other stations too, bow and arrows, maces, spears but on the other side are survival skills, the Capitol enjoys tributes that are crafty, so we have put in things like fire or trap making, please browse at your leisure, you have two and a half days to learn everything you can."

He put the sword back on the rack and he made his way back to where he stood only moments ago. His eyes determined than ever as he eyed each tribute with a sense of pride. His eyes lingered at a few of the tributes before he started to walk out of the training centre; not before looking back once more.

"I look forward to what you'll show me on the third day."

With that the tributes dispersed like water being spilled. Daley watched as brutish looking tributes made their way to a weapon station. He heard tales of the Two tributes from Rooster, but he never believed that they actually looked like that, but he surmised that those were them. They were soon followed by the One tributes, or he thought they were them; it was hard to keep a track of everyone.

The other tributes had dispersed to different stations and are just standing there doing nothing. He thought that he should at least practice something, or maybe he'd just do nothing too. He walked to a weapon station, the tridents. There were already two tributes there, tanned from long days in the sun. They held tridents and are practicing against the dummies.

There was a thought in his head that told him to introduce himself. Normally, tributes from the same district stay together but he looked at Maybelle once she was reaped and he had written her off. He lifted one of the tridents, surprised at how heavy it felt in his hand. He saw that the boy was looking at him now.

"Daley Ramone, district Ten." He told him and there was a surprised look on the boy's face.

"Ramone?" He said, barely a whisper. "Clark Sebold, district Four. June come here, there's a Ramone."

"Ramone, huh." She stopped poking the dummies with her trident and walked over to introduce herself. "June Armistead, district Four."

"Armistead? Sebold?" Daley said. "My Pa had told me about them."

"Yep, we're still here." Clark said. "We fled Five during the commotion of the Dark Days, we've been staying in Four since."

"My dad worked with your dad to liberate troops in Four." June said. "Although he's dead now, or missing, I don't know what happened exactly, my mom refuses to tell me."

"This is great," Daley said thinking loudly. "We should team up in the arena."

"Great idea," June said. "But what about when it's just down to us three."

"That's when we make a point." Daley whispered, everyone getting in closer. "When it's down to us three, we stop playing their Games. We can end it here."

"What about your partner?" Clark asked, and the boy just scoffed.

"She's just a necessary sacrifice, she won't last very long, and she will only slow us down."

All three of them looked towards the direction of Maybelle Davis as she struggled to use a small knife. She looked nervous but still tried to stab one of the dummies. She had a rope slung on her shoulder, but they didn't know what it was for.

"You're right." June said. "I don't think anyone else here wants to end this awful event."

* * *

 _ **Rexton Price  
Head Gamemaker  
Training Centre, Private Sessions**_

* * *

He was exhausted. He had drunk his third, maybe fourth, glass of whiskey already as he had watched countless tributes who either showed minimal skills or nothing at all. Some tributes cried for the entire session that he had no choice but to actually get a Peacekeeper to drag them out.

The only ones that had impressed him was Electrum Mazon, sister of victor Fossil Mazon. She had shown great skills with a sword that it made not only him but his partner in crime, Elbert, suspicious too. They shrugged it off as she fought off one of the trainers with relative ease. Her district partner too was great but not as much as her.

The Ones were good, but they didn't hold a candle in comparison to Electrum. The others had not impressed him one bit. Elbert was kinder, but he too was pretty drained as he looked at the list. They were well over halfway. Only Tens, Elevens and Twelves to go.

"Let's bring the next one in." Rexton sighed as the doors open.

They're sat, high up, in a little alcove of the walls. A glass fence separates them from the tributes but from there they can see the whole basement even as they sat on their comfortable seats. The large basement had been cleaned up from the last three days, all stations are tucked away against the walls and the dummies are lined up for anyone wanting to use them. He sat up as the doors opened to see little Maybelle Davis stumble her way in.

"Another crier?" Rexton whispered to Elbert.

"Let's give her a chance." He whispered back as he smiled at the girl from Ten.

"Maybelle Davis, district Ten." She said as loud as she can but Rexton could tell the nervousness in her voice; he did notice that she was nicer than her district partner who had walked in and did nothing for five minutes.

"Welcome, Ms. Davis," Elbert said, smile still on his face. "This is the private sessions, show us what you've learnt in the last two and a half days. You have five minutes."

The girl could only nod as she made her way to the trap making station. Rexton sat forward some more, he had not seen anyone do this yet. He looked at Elbert, who was doing the same thing as he was.

They were slightly disappointed that she only took a rope and performed her rope tying skills. She also made a lasso and decided to try and gather some dummies. After a few tries she had snagged one but that was all she shown them. She bowed her head, politely said her 'thanks' and left the room.

"It was different, but it might not help her." Rexton said as he noted a couple of things down on his journal.

* * *

 _ **Phineus Keenzest  
Master of Ceremonies  
Capitol, Interviews**_

* * *

This is what dreams are made of.

He loved his job, has been doing it for fifteen years already and his role has changed once or twice since the First Hunger Games.

He enjoyed talking to the tributes, how shell-shocked some of them look and others with their air of faux confidence that makes Phineus want to laugh in their face. Any sort of emotions, he can handle. That's what Phineus Keenzest tells himself all the time and how the tributes should feel privileged to touch the gilded apple that is the Capitol.

So why does he want to rip his head off at this particular set of tributes. The One tributes are arrogant and any point of conversation dies in favour of them hyping the Capitol audience; who obviously eat them up. The Twos and their pride were also incomparable by any other, even Electrum Mazon looked like she had a stick up her behind that stopped her answering the questions.

He wanted to forget about the Four tributes too as they sat there in silence for three minutes. The damned rebel sons and daughters were always told by their peers to stay silent despite that they were probably going to die in the Games.

The others were either too dumb to answer the questions properly or were crying so much that it drowned him out. He was irritated by them all. He reiterated that he loved his job, but he could only smile for so long before he could snap.

After another three minutes of silence with Daley Ramone he stood up as the buzzer had ended their moment together. "Daley Ramone everybody! A boy of few, or no words."

The booing from the audience were enough indication on how much impact he had made. The scores were publicised by him earlier in the afternoon and the boy's score of a 1 along with the Fours were the lowest so far.

He looked at who is next and smiled, from what he had seen of her, he bet he could get her to talk. "Now, let's introduce our next tribute, Maybelle Davis!"

The crowd seemed to cheer, although their hesitant cheering was recognised by the Master of Ceremonies himself. He took her hand and led her to the white seat in the middle of the stage. She looked nervous, her hair cascaded on her shoulders like waves. Her dress, a bit too revealing for a fifteen-year-old, but it worked as the men and women of the Capitol stared at her like some doll.

"Maybelle." The crowd seemed to die down as he spoke. "Three questions, that's what I'm going to ask you, can you answer three questions?"

"I'll try my best." She smiled and from that Phineus could tell that he was going to enjoy the next three minutes.

"First question; what is your family like?"

"Busy. I have one sister and four brothers." She said and Phineus could only smile a bit more than what he already is, although some questions were answered by other tributes hers felt genuine like she was just speaking to someone.

"Second question; what do you think about district Ten?"

"Well…there's not much to see, it's dusty and smells like animals all day." The crowd laughed at her answer and Phineus couldn't help but join in with a chuckle.

"Well despite that I bet it's still a good place to live." He said, and she just nodded her head with a small smile. "Last question; what do you think about the Capitol?"

"It's huge, and shiny. I can't think of what it's like to live here." She says as she stared at the Master of Ceremonies with wide dark brown eyes.

"It certainly is that." He said with another chuckle. "Well thank you for answering my questions, Maybelle Davis everybody!"

She was applauded on her way out of the stage. The Capitol may have found their favourite other than the arrogant Ones and the prideful Twos. She happily made her way out of the stage, the nervousness she had presented before had now seemed to have melted.

* * *

 _ **Heilan Davis  
District Ten  
Interviews**_

* * *

His sister looked beautiful.

Everyone is gathered in their tiny living room watching the Capitol supplied television on the corner. They had been watching for hours now, waiting for their beloved Maybelle Davis to appear, but she's out there now.

They haven't seen her since the Reapings. When they all gathered around her and cried for what seems like forever until they were asked to leave. She disappeared with no signs of life until three or four days later when the interviews had begun.

The way she talked to the Master of Ceremonies looked so relaxed, it's as if she had not been changed by the Capitol at all. The only thing that changed was her appearance, her attitude and mannerisms is still intact. He felt a sort of pride in his heart as it swells up. If he had anything to do about it, he would say that his sister has a chance to win.

With a red flowing dress, that looked far too revealing for his taste, and a face full of makeup, you wouldn't recognise her on first glance. Her dark brown hair flowed down like waterfalls on her shoulders. She really does look beautiful.

"She looks like a princess." Rachel comments and Heilan agreed.

In fact, they all agreed that their little Maybelle Davis looked like royalty on that stage and as she finished her questions and was led away from the stage, they all had this dread inside them that the next time they would see her is during the Hunger Games.

* * *

 _ **Joseph Davis  
District Ten  
Bloodbath; Day 1**_

* * *

No one is as close to Maybelle Davis than her younger brother Joseph. Born one year apart, the two spent the days in Ten growing up together. He was there for her during her first Reapings and she for his. It's safe to say that they were inseparable but now that she had been whisked away to the Capitol in the Hunger Games, his personality had changed.

When kids their age made fun of her nearly dying at what the Capitol is dubbing it as the 'bloodbath', he had lost it. He fought everyone that had even as much as smirked with what they had teased his sister. He lost most of the fights, but he still never let go.

What he found out later that day was that his sister had survived. It was dark now, he watched the television intently as his sister rested near a tree, away from the 'Cornucopia'. He felt relieved but at the same time scared for her.

"She escaped." Heilan said as he sat down beside him on the floor. "She had two knives with her."

"That's it?" He asked, and his older brother nodded.

"There was a brief recap earlier, sixteen tributes died at the start." Heilan said. "With a further two cannons later when the One and Two tributes fought each other."

"What happened after that?"

"She got rope."

"Rope?"

"I don't know either." Heilan sighed as he stared at his sleeping sister on the screen. "Panem knows what she'll do with it."

Joseph didn't say anything else as he sat there quietly another recap on the television screen. He found that other than Maybelle both the Four tributes and Daley Ramone survived the bloodbath, but they also killed between the three of them eight tributes. The Two and One tributes too killed eight tributes but then they fought each other with only the boy from One and the girl from Two surviving.

They comment on the Cornucopia too, the thing in the middle at the start of the Games. It was chock full of weapons, food and supplies. It changed the way the Games started, everyone was around it to encourage fighting, it seemed. Joseph didn't like that.

He only wished that his sister could survive with five other killers in the arena.

* * *

 _ **Weston Davis  
District Ten  
Day 2**_

* * *

He's worried.

It's late in the afternoon and the Hunger Games are down to the last two tributes in the arena. For the second time in the space of a couple years, district Ten is going to have another victor. Whether that be his sister or Daley Ramone he doesn't know.

He rushed all the way back home after his work was done in the ranch. He heard from the other guys where he worked that the team of Daley and the Fours encountered the One boy and the Two girl prompting a second bloodbath on the second day.

He didn't stop working but he heard them spoke of how the Four tributes had lashed out at the One boy first. He had killed the girl from Four, but he was soon killed by the Two girl. He listened in on how Daley had fought relentlessly and sustained a few injuries, but he had done it. He had killed off the girl from Two, one of the favourites to win as she was a victor's sister.

Then they started speculating on who would win now. Everyone was split fifty-fifty and there was no clear winner it seemed. Weston knew who he wanted to win but his friends at work seemed to think that Daley could win as he was stronger. He agreed, but he knew his sister can do it.

"How's it going?" Weston asked his mother and father, who had stayed at home to watch the Games, when he walked through the front door.

"She's been fiddling around with that rope she kept getting." His mother said. "I don't know where she learned how to do that, but I hope it's enough."

"She can do it." His father said. "I know she can."

He took off his boots and sat on the floor. Heilan, Joseph and Logan are nowhere to be seen and Rachel was at school still. They're going to miss what could be their celebration or commiserations. Weston didn't want to think about it, he wanted her to win.

He looked at the work she was doing and surmised that she was making traps. They were simple but with enough rope she got over the day, it seemed from sponsors, that she had made a lot. She looked worried and that made him worried too.

Logan and Joseph walked in from the front door, followed by Heilan. They didn't say anything as they sat beside him as they watched their sister. Joseph had another bruise to his face, clearly, he had been fighting once again.

When Rachel walked into the house that's when everything had changed. An injured Daley had found Maybelle as she held the knife cutting another piece of rope. Weston called Rachel to hurry up and she rushed to their mother's side, her hand held hers.

Maybelle stood over the badly beaten Daley, cuts everywhere and a bruise to his face. He had never seen him so badly bruised before and it looked like Maybelle hadn't either. They stood there for a few minutes, the wind blew across the trees and through them first.

And then she ran.

The chase began, Maybelle ran as fast as she could. Joseph beside him started to whisper something to himself and Logan shouted encouragement at the screen. Daley was still as fast as Maybelle despite all the injuries he had sustained. He ran with a trident in his hand.

"No!" Logan shouted, and it surprised everyone.

He was right to be worried though as it looked like Daley was about to catch their sister. However, his foot caught on a camouflaged rope tied from one tree to another and the boy tripped on the hard forest floor that surrounded the meadow where so many tributes had died.

When he tried to get up, they all saw their little Maybelle Davis panic as the other knife, a sharper more elaborate knife, plunged its way into the boy's back. His mother couldn't look, she buried her face into Rachel's embrace. Everyone looked horrified, Joseph and Logan had their mouths wide open.

It wasn't over though as she took a step back from Daley and then she collapsed on the same forest floor. The dagger was still stuck to his back, blood seeped out from the wound. They could all hear Daley as he cried and moaned in pain. The room was quiet, the arena seemed quiet as if the wind had died down.

Maybelle's face was panicked. She started to cry as she watched him, intense pain on his back. He groaned and cried out in pain but soon it quietened down shortly after. His other injuries seemed to slow him down. He passed out shortly after but there was still no cannon.

Weston and everyone knew that this boy was still alive.

The camera flicked to the panic-stricken face of their Maybelle Davis; a once innocent face scorned by the Games. She waited there, in front of her district partner, her breath seemed to quicken when Daley's slowed down.

Maybelle had waited there for maybe an hour or two as the boy woke up and writhed in pain before he lost consciousness again. Daley had done this a few times before he had lost consciousness for longer than Weston had counted before. Meanwhile, his sister's face looked shell-shocked as she watched the boy die in front of her eyes, the cannon confirmed it moments later.

They didn't know if they should celebrate or not, but as the fanfare blared on the television screen Logan jumped in the air in celebration. He was soon followed by Heilan and then Weston too joined in. Their parents embraced each other, and Rachel did the same to Joseph as she told him that she's coming home. It was bittersweet but they're finally going to see little Maybelle Davis again.

* * *

 _ **Pedro Gruger  
District Ten Escort  
Train to Ten, After Victory Tour**_

* * *

This tour had become such a whirlwind of every emotions that Pedro could ever imagine. He's been there, by here side, throughout it all despite her protests to be left alone. He became her personal bodyguard. He didn't quite know why he had done it, but he knew that she felt grateful for sticking by her side.

"Last stop." Pedro sighed as he sipped on his tea at the dining area.

It was early morning. The sights of wide, open fields and dusty earth is all they could see, mountains in the background if they really focused. He could see how excited the young victor is to go home, how tired she must have felt going from district to district. How uneasy she was at the Capitol parties she was invited to.

"Not long now." Rooster said as he stood up to get changed out of his bathrobe, the man had not learned an ounce of manners from him, but he didn't mind.

Over the last two weeks, the two had bonded over how protective they were of Maybelle Davis, the first female victor of the Games and he hoped that there were many more to come and that he would see more in the years that passes by.

The trauma that the little girl had experienced in the Games had been enough for anyone to be protective of her. When he came to pick her up two weeks ago she was reluctant to ever board the train, she held onto her sister's arm so tight. It took some major convincing from both Rooster and him to make her eventually depart with them.

Then came the night terrors. The constant screaming, the shouting and the crying. It happened shortly after they had left Twelve. The memories of the Games surging back to her mind after being secluded for six months in her home.

This prompted both Pedro and Rooster to station themselves, in shifts, outside Maybelle's room. She would scream, and they would walk in, stay in her room until she fell asleep then they would go out again. They never left her sight since.

"Thank you," he raised an eyebrow from the newspaper he was holding to look at the victor.

"What for?" He asked.

"For being there for me," she replied. "Despite me shouting at you or just being mean."

"It's no bother," he said with a smirk. "You were better handled than Rooster ever was."

"Really?" She said with a giggle.

"Oh yeah," he said as he took another sip of the hot beverage. "He would drink constantly and just be a general pain in the ass, he disappeared for a couple of hours in Four too."

"I noticed he did that when we got there."

"I guess you can say that he had become great friends with the Four victors."

"They seemed really nice." She said.

"They really are."

* * *

The station was empty, saved for Maybelle's family. They all waited, every single one of them, for her for Panem knows how long. Once she had stepped off the train she rushed towards them, the embrace she got radiated warmth even to Pedro himself.

"Well," he said. "I guess this is the last time I'll see you until the summer."

"Yeah." She said. "Thank you again, Pedro."

Then she hugged him. Unexpected, it might have been obvious from his expression, but he hugged her back. Feeling the same warmth, he had felt earlier. They keep longer until he pulled away, urged her to get some rest. She smiled, and she left, with Rooster in tow. He waved his goodbyes as they retreated into the station.

His job as a Capitol Escort was tiring, indeed, but it was worth it.

* * *

 _ **Maybelle Davis  
Victor of the Fifteenth Hunger Games  
Victor's Village**_

* * *

She is home, her family was with her, that's more than she could ever ask for. So why does she feel guilty most days? Her days are spent mostly in her room, but she comes out to accompany Rachel on her weekly trips to the markets of Ten.

The looks they flash her way, some of sympathy and others of disdain. Her sister telling her to not pay them any form of attention. She told her that it was either her or him, and that she chose the right thing.

She knew that; but it doesn't help her feeling this guilty.

She bought flowers that particular day she went with her sister to the busy markets of Ten. Maybelle told her that she'll see her back at the village and her sister reluctantly lets her go. Where she went she didn't quite know but her feet took her to the cemetery; the Graves of the Fallen.

Tributes lost to the Games are buried here, separate from those that had died from other means. Flowers and wreaths lined certain grave stones, but others are barren and empty. Her feet walk towards Daley Ramone's; deposits the flowers and just sits there.

Hours have passed and yet she just sister there. Wind blew occasionally, rustling the flowers and her hair. It felt right, that she felt like this; helpless and confused. She wished that she could take it all back, but al she could do was give him all the time she has left.


	17. Triton Strombus

_**Triton Strombus  
Victor of the 16th Hunger Games**_

* * *

The sun was shining, bright beams of light warmed the houses of Four one afternoon. The excitement had once again faded, six months into becoming a victor, Triton Strombus has an idea that he wants to execute. However, he had no means to execute such a grandiose idea. As he traverses the streets of Four, coming out of his girlfriend's home and directly back to the Victor's Village.

He had an epiphany overnight when he could not sleep, an idea. The night, more synonymous with him now, having spent most of his time in the arena at night. He went through his time hunting the tributes, at night, during the cover of darkness. Tide Seaworth, his mentor, told him to be smart but also ruthless.

His feet almost break into a run as ideas flood into his minds, that work with his initial ideas. His girlfriend, Emily Undine, had not even had a chance to wake up when he left the house in a hurry. She had so much time for him, he was truly lucky to have her in his life.

As he passes by the final set of buildings into the pathway to the cliff where the Victor's Village is located, he stops by the fountain before going to his primary target: Tide. He looks around the quiet village, the fountain operational as it was the day he arrived in the village, where they put in his own koi fish making it three; a tradition they want to uphold and hopefully grow as time goes on.

His light brown eyes glisten with the water as he approached the fountain, his feet crunching on the gravel pathways. He passes the water feature and directly to the bright white home of the first victor of Four. Opening the similar coloured picket fence he walks on the gravel pathway.

He doesn't bother knocking, inviting himself in knowing full well that his mentor and fellow victor will be in the kitchen, either eating or experimenting with food again. He kicks off his shoes, Tide hates dirty floors, especially if his floors are a marble white. The cool surface gives him a little chill as he thinks about the possibility of this idea, his eyes scan the open living room, windows letting in all the sunlight can offer.

He walks past the sofa and into the kitchen and just as he predicted, Tide Seaworth is standing in front of the kitchen stove with another pot in hand. He turns around, briefly smiling and going back to what he was about to do.

Triton thinks of it as a treat, he's going to have breakfast and have his idea be commended. They share a comfortable silence at first before Triton starts to speak.

"So, I had an idea." He says nonchalantly admiring the island counter he had situated himself in.

"What kind of idea?" The man spoke not turning around as he started to lay fish into a pan; the pot he held earlier now had something in it waiting to be heated up.

"Have you heard of whispers about the Academies back in Two and One?"

The man had stopped doing what he was doing, the normal fluidity he displays in the kitchen stopped by whatever Triton had said, and now he feels like he had done something wrong. He waits for some form of retort, but nothing comes, and the man just continues to cook, in silence. Unlike the previous silence, this one feels colder and not at all friendly.

This frigid silence stays longer than he had anticipated. This experience feels new to Triton, his former mentor is usually gentler and kinder but something about what he had said earlier cleary bother him. Triton had always got along well with the man, he had listened intently to everything during the Hunger Games and he got out of the arena, he owes his whole life to this man, but now that he's giving him the cold shoulder, he feels bad.

He sets down a plate on the island counter, fried rice and some fried fish was on the menu. Tide stands opposite him, he takes a bite and seems to mull over what Triton had said earlier. He looks at him after that, icy blue eyes seem to freeze Triton to his seat; his food untouched.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?" Triton bursts out loud, melting from the icy atmosphere he had sat in.

"I will not have arrogant and selfish tributes representing Four." He said taking an angry bite from the fish he had cooked.

"If you think about it, Tide," he starts as he pushes the plate away, appetite gone. "The youth of Four is growing uneasy, there had been more petty thefts and crimes committed by the children of reaping age."

"And what would you want to do? Direct all that pent-up teenage angst into the Hunger Games? How can you be so foolish?!"

Triton seems to cower, like a child being scolded by a parent. He then feels like he had failed the man somehow by offering up such a stupid idea to him. The problem Triton has is that he had always looked for a father figure in anyone remotely that can be male role-model in his life.

He grew up in a small family. His father had left long ago before he had turned five years old, now anyone that so much had given him attention he would attach himself to them. His mother is barely home, having to work job after job to provide for him and his younger brother.

"What does Arlo think about all of this?"

He perks his head up, he looks at the soft features of Tide again and it fills him with determination. "He agreed with me, in fact he was thinking of the same thing I was."

"I'll think it over."

That's all he could ever ask for, Triton was so excited that he almost leapt over the counter to give the man a hug, but he had to stop himself. He even got his appetite back, him eating the food as fast as he had rejected it earlier.

As soon as he had finished the offered breakfast, he stood up to leave; thanking the victor for the delicious meal as always. He was about to leave the kitchen when Tide called out his name, he turned to see a concerned look on the older victor's face.

"If we do end up opening an academy here in Four, I don't want to be the face and name of this school." He tells the younger victor.

"You got it, boss."

* * *

 _ **Triton Stromubs  
Victor's Village  
Opening of Triton Academy**_

* * *

It was two weeks before the Reapings for the Eighteenth Hunger Games. The school had not opened in time to accept prospective students, but it was still an unveiling. Triton looked at himself in the mirror within his bedroom.

He was nervous, but he had smiled when small dainty arms snaked their way around his neck and down his chest, straightening the suit at the same time, followed by a peck on the cheeks. He smiles even more as he turns around to kiss Emily on the lips.

"Are you ready for this?" She asks him, fixing the black bowtie around his neck.

"I am." He says with less enthusiasm as he had been leading up to the event.

"You don't sound so excited anymore."

"I might be a little nervous." He says, and Emily just laughs. "It's not funny, this could make or break the district."

"I know, I know," she says. "You just look adorable when you're nervous, it's something a lot of people don't get to see; outside all they see is that confident victor from Four, a dazzling smile and killer instinct that rivals that of the first ever victors."

It's true, his personality is fragmented between his personal life and his public life. Tide noticed this at first when he became a natural at talking during interviews prior to the Hunger Games and after. Arlo noticed the minute he had stepped foot in his home; his pet dog, Seaweed, attacking the larger boy as he melts and gushes over him.

"Just be yourself." Emily says with another kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, just be me." He whispers to himself as he watches the woman of his dreams leave the room, her seafoam coloured dress swishes with every step she takes. "I can do this."

He steps outside of his bedroom, Tide and Arlo are downstairs talking with Emily and as they all look up to him he gives a nervous smile. Walking downstairs he could feel his throat seize up until he closes his eyes and count to ten really fast.

"You okay, bud?" Arlo asks him, then jabs him in the side in a teasing manner. "Not nervous, are you?"

"Arlo stop it!" Emily hits the victor with her clutch. "We all know what he's like, stop teasing him."

Triton relaxes at the people in front of him. Arlo and Emily had been the greatest supporters of his life; his mother too and his brother but these three people have become pivotal to his life since the Hunger Games.

"Are you ready?" Tide asks him, and the boy just nods.

* * *

The grand opening of Triton Academy had a larger attendance rate than anticipated. Located near an untouched beach of Four, on a cliff overlooking a vista; blue ocean as far as the eye can see. A stairwell directs itself into the beach for outdoor training and other activities. It was a marvel.

The opening was conducted by Mayor Aquarios, and attended by Capitol officials too. Triton Strombus, at only eighteen years old, had been travelling to and from the Capitol to appeal such an academy to be built in his district; it was denied several times, but he kept trying.

His main issue was that the Capitol thought this academy was going to be used to train tributes and abuse it so that they can continually produce victors to further the riches of Four, and each time Triton rejected that idea. That was not his intention at all; Triton Academy was built for the children of Four, to gather potentially useful skills in order to gain jobs in Four, otherwise the future generations would produce less yield and offer less incentive. The Capitol accepted that reason, and Triton did not tell them that the skills can also be useful in an arena setting of the Games.

He stands, now, inside the main training hall of the academy. Guests from the Capitol and Four mixing and mingling. He held a champagne flute with him, his Emily was talking to other girls and ladies; Tide and Arlo speaking with what looks like potential business partners in their efforts to better the district. Otherwise the majority of the guests here are from richer families, all wondering what it was like and how they can apply their children to the school.

Emily approaches him, a smile on her face and as they face the large crowd; she suggests that he do a speech. He relecutantly nods and makes his way up the stage. He clicks his glass into a microphone and hundreds of eyes look at him all at once. A nervous smile as he begins to speak.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for attending the grand opening of Triton Academy, I know, a terrible name," he gets some laughs and he seems to relax a bit more. "This has been an idea since before my Victory Tour, I had found an issue that had seemed to plague the district, the youth of the district have grown stagnant, bored and have become petty criminals. What this district offers is a chance to put that boredom into something worthwhile; something that can be used outside in the wider district; we will teach them valuable skills for when they are older; and with your help then I hope we can become prestigious and be a role-model to the other districts.

He was met with applause from the eyes, he had to add something about districts because of the Capitol officials within the crowd. He didn't like it as much, but he had learned from the Victory Tour that giving speeches in front of the whole nation, one must always involve the Capitol and Panem. He steps down from the stage and he is soon swarmed by parents wanting to apply their children.

Triton felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, his face contorting to that of uneasiness. It all dawned on him as the crowd in front of him goes silent, that he had to lead this school; train and teach these kids to have proper mannerisms and skills. He can't do it. He's only eighteen, he should still be one of those students. He looks around, his breath hitching and his eyes, light brown as they were, begin to darken and his anxiety begins to flare up. He was about to say something when Tide takes the lead.

"All applications can be found at the front of the school, we will hold interviews and potential tests to all prospective students after this year's Hunger Games. Now if you'll excuse us."

Tide grabs him by the shoulders and directs him behind the stage, amongst the royal blue curtains, away from the leering crowd and loudness of the gathering. He turns the boy around, his eyes tearing up, panting as if he can't get any air.

"Hey, hey." He takes the boy's face in between his hands. "Look at me."

Triton looks at Tide, his eyes have started to relax, the pupils don't seem as jittery as they were, returning to that light brown that Tide had come to know. His breathing changes from fast to regular almost instantly.

"What's wrong? You did great out there."

"I just," he says trying to find words. "It's all overwhelming, having to man this whole school by myself."

Then he did something that he never thought he would ever do. His mouth opens as he feels his stomach empty the contents of what he had eaten this morning onto Tide's shoes as well as the polished wooden floors of the training hall.

Embarrassed is not the thing that he would describe this. Mortified comes close as he looks at Tide with an apologetic face, the older man just keeps a straight face as he ignores the food he had cooked earlier for him swimming with his shoes.

"Tell me what's really wrong." He says, voice serious and demanding.

"I-I think I made a mistake; this whole idea is dumb." He tells him. "I can't do this."

He can see the worry in his eyes and Triton hated that, he didn't like worrying Tide, but he does it often it seems. He wanted to take the words back, it's too late, however, as his mentor begins to speak now.

"I'll take up the position as Headmaster." Tide says with a sigh.

"What?" He felt astounded by that proposal. "You didn't even want this academy built in the first place."

"I know, don't remind me." Tide says, his eyes closing. "You said it yourself, you're overwhelmed."

"No." Triton said, and surprises even Tide himself. "I can't have you take such a burden."

"I'll do it, no arguing there." He says suddenly firm. "You, vomiting on my shoes is sign enough that you'll never handle being in charge."

"I…fine. I'm sorry about your shoes."

"It's fine." He says with a laugh. "It's Arlo's anyway."

They both laugh behind the curtains, all the anxiety melting away from Triton. He may not be in charge of the school, but he did not mind that one bit. It was better under the hands of Tide Seaworth.

Who else can train tributes better than the person that has brought home two strong victors?

* * *

 _ **11 years later**_

* * *

Triton stands in the same training hall where it all began. Where his anxiety melted and formed an impenetrable armour of devotion and hard-work. He stands amongst the students of the academy, either training with weapons or sparring in wrestling matches.

The academy grew larger and larger, though never bringing home a victor since it's conception, the rate at which Four tributes reach the final eight tributes have skyrocketed. Most only losing to sneaky tributes and others being eliminated by stronger tributes, mainly by the Two or One tributes.

He blew the whistle and tells the students that training is over for the day, everyone stops what they're doing; some stay behind to put weapons back in the racks and others just speed towards the showers, excited about going home after a long day of studies and training.

The rate at which students have started to volunteer for the Hunger Games have also increased since the opening of the academy. He had anticipated this and is completely fine with it; as it spares a poor reaped tribute like he was.

Tide, however, was not.

"I need to talk to you."

His voice echoes and bounces off the walls of the hall, the students are all gone. Turning around to see Tide, his eyes have a tired look to them; more meetings from business partners and more complaints from parent's whose children have died in the arena have really took a toll on his mentor and close friend.

"What about?"

"You know what about." He says, almost angry but he relaxes. "I had to sit through another grieving mother today, asking me why her daughter died and did not win; and I keep telling her the same thing I tell everyone: that it's not a guaranteed win when their children volunteer in the Games."

"Look, if you want me to do those meetings-"

"It's not about the meetings. It's the hurt, in their eyes, I feel like a murderer, this isn't what I signed up for." Tide says shoving his hands in his pockets. "All of this volunteering crap, I did not sign up for that."

"What are you saying?"

"I want to quit." He says clear as day. "I can't do this anymore."

Triton rushes towards his mentor, grasping him in either shoulder. He wanted to shake him out of this trance. The man can't quit, not while the school is finally doing something positive in Four. He can see the petty crime rates decline, the youth seem happier, and not as doom and gloom.

"You can't."

That's all he could say as he lets go of his mentor. He wanted to shout at him, accuse him of quitting while they're ahead but he knows he couldn't do that; he would never dream of doing that. His mentor was like the role-model he never had growing up, an inspiration to everything he had worked for.

"I opened this school to teach the kids skills for use out there in Four, to survive the outside world, to have equal footing with everyone else." Triton continues as he looks at Tide. "I need you to stay, you've done so much for this school, you can't just up and disappear. I didn't anticipate that these kids would want to volunteer for the Games but think about it; they're saving younger ones from potential doom."

"Their family is what I worry about." He says with a sigh. "I saw the volunteers this year, they're good, one of them has clear potential and the other is equally as good."

He turns around to leave, not saying anything else. Triton wanted to catch up to him, but he forces himself not to. There's no point arguing further, the man has made up his mind. There's no convincing the force that is Tide.

"I'm taking Arlo with me," he says as he leaves the hall. "Man the fort while I'm gone."

A small smile creeps along his face as he watches the retreating form of his mentor. He knows that he'll come back, he just needs the time to mull it over. Triton knows that the intention of the academy was to give students a chance our there in the real world, but he's lying when he didn't have the Hunger Games in the back of his mind when he had thought of the idea with Arlo.


	18. Lyre Feldspar

_**The Capitol  
Club Valentinos  
Aftermath of the Seventeenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

It was a quiet evening in Valentino's, many of the patrons are gone for the night. The heavy footfall that is normally present in this bar is gone, the Hunger Games is over, a victor had already been decided and is in recovery, therefore there shouldn't be any cause to drink heavily or socialise as much as before.

One of the reasons they like this place. The Victors, especially the early ones is because they have a secret VIP club upstairs. The fact that Caligula Valentine had opened up a bar upstairs, for VIPs only; mainly just for victors. It was soundproof, not a camera in sight. It was what Leroy Ramnes liked the most, away from prying eyes.

He sits at the bar, Ajax Craik by his side as they down another drink of whiskey. The older man had invited all of the Two victors to congregate in this bar, it's about time for them to talk about the future of Two and the role the victors should play.

Fossil Mazon walks in first followed by Drusus Ramnes, both eye the two men suspiciously before sitting at a table. Leroy scoffs as he moves towards them both, sitting opposite the other two victors; Ajax joining him a second or so later.

They stare down each other for a moment or two, Leroy never letting up as he swig some more of the brown liquid down his throat. The burn felt good, his tongue appreciates the bitterness of the liquid; the burn being calmed by the ice that he crunches afterwards.

"Why did you call us here?" He says, a sigh dancing at his lips but deciding against it; he wasn't ready to fight or argue.

"I called us all here for a discussion," he says putting the glass down on the glass table with an audible clink, the sound of glass hitting glass the only noise breaking the moments silence before he spoke again. "Gentlemen, I have a proposition for you both."

Drusus raises his eyebrow, suspiciousness written all over his face. Leroy could only smirk at that as he asks the bartender for a round of drinks. The man opposite him had clearly developed a sort of contempt to his former mentor that he is always there to counter whatever he says or proposes.

"Why should we ever listen to what you want?" He asks him, a tinge of venom in his words that Leroy just grins at and then turns into full blown laughter.

"We asked you here to propose training prospective tributes for the Hunger Games." Ajax finishes as Leroy continues to laugh. "That way we can gain more victors, and fund Two, making it the top of all the districts."

Drusus can only scoff at the idea, he looks from the laughing form of Leroy to Ajax, who admittedly had become a lackey to the former. He stands up and is about to say something when Fossil begins to speak, and not very calmly either.

"Haven't you already done that?" He says, or rather shouts at the older man who had stopped laughing at this point to look him in the eyes. "You took my sister away from me, and she died in that arena!"

It took everything in Leroy to not fight back, he knew full well what he did. Persuaded Fossil's sister, Electrum, to train and volunteer, it was just the beginning of his plans, it was actually Ajax's idea to recruit people, but he didn't want to put him under the line of fire from Fossil. Panem knows the man has such a temper these days.

"I can never forgive you for doing that to my sister," Fossil says then points a finger at Leroy, a glare behind it. "And you better stay away from Silica."

"Electrum had potential, if it weren't for those pesky Four tributes then she would have won that year."

"Fuck you!" He is ready to flip the table and charge towards the man, and it took all of Drusus' strength to stop Fossil, his face contorting into blind rage. "She should never have been in there in the first place!"

He stops trying to get to the man, shaking off Drusus before leaving the lounge with nothing but his anger to remember him by. Drusus look at the door that his friend Fossil had left in, he needs to cool down by himself; the man is plagued by anger issues, most of it stemming from Leroy meddling into his or Drusus' affairs. They have told the smug first victor to leave them alone several times, but he seems to worm himself into their lives no matter what.

"As good as that sounds," Drusus says with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm going to have to decline that offer."

"Your loss." The older victor scoffs as he downs another drink.

"I don't think it's my loss." Drusus says as he headed for the door, fixing his suit jacket from the early scuffle. "I got Lyre home, didn't I? No help from you and your dumb lackey too."

Drusus grins evilly as he sees the rage build up in Leroy's face. The man can dish it really well but he's not one to take jokes lightly. Besides, Leroy had attempted to recruit Lyre several times, convincing her to volunteer and train under him, but every time she turns him down. It was even more surprising when Lyre had volunteered for this little girl that was reaped. Leroy looking slightly shocked. He trained the boy that year, but he wasn't as good as Lyre, who was clearly trained by Drusus.

Drusus closes the door feeling slightly good that he had one upped the man with a million plans. The man that is seemingly one step ahead of everyone. The feeling that he can actually go toe-to-toe with the man without him buckling to pressure is good. He leaves the Valentino's, passing by the myriad of patrons and into the bitter night air; back to the tribute centre to see his sister-in-law.

* * *

 _ **Lyre Feldspar  
Victor of the 17th Hunger Games  
Aftermath of the Thirty-fifth Hunger Games**_

* * *

It's been a long time coming but they have finally opened it. All the hard work and money they have poured into purchasing this abandoned quarry and then refurbishing it to look like some form of school; the Secutor Academy is born under the tutelage of Fossil, Drusus and Lyre.

Fossil stood beside her as they admired the entrance. Drusus, her brother-in-law, is still in the Capitol dealing with the aftermath of the Games. His letter arrived earlier this morning, she couldn't help but laugh at the message: 'Just open the damn thing and don't bother waiting for me!'

"Well it seems it's just us two for now." Lyre says as she makes her way into the school.

The school itself is modern; more so than that of its rival, Gladius, which is now located in the abandoned Village Omega. Secutor overlooks the quarry inside Village Alpha, it's prominent location can be seen even in the biggest village of Two; it attracts those to it like moths to a flame. The quarry was converted into training grounds, but also offers dormitory for those out with the village itself.

"I'm surprised that Drusus even wanted this to open." Fossil says coming in after Lyre. "He was so against it for such a long time."

"Yeah," Lyre said touching the pristine white halls of the academy, lit up by fluorescent lights. "But Two tributes as of late have been bloodthirsty and crazy; hopefully with this academy we can show the Capitol that it's not always like that."

"Yeah," Fossil says as they make their way into the offices, one of the door is marked: Lyre Feldspar, Advisor on it. "Hopefully."

"That's another worry for another day," Lyre said as she dragged the older victor into her office. "Look at this!"

She shows him the office space, soft plush chairs that look welcoming sit opposite her desk, which has a black suede swivel chair. A picture of her family sit behind her chair on top of a shelf and on top of that is the sword she had used to cut down her enemies in the arena; eight notches engraved on to signify her kills.

"This looks well decorated." Fossil says as he stares out the window, the view is spectacular; a near birds-eye view of the training grounds.

"What about your office?"

"Mine?" Fossil says. "It's just as plain as I am, really."

"That won't do."

She tries to drag the man to his office when he stops suddenly. She looks to him, confused at first, but the look in the man's eyes made her worry for him. She comes closer to him, her brown eyes looking into his hazel ones.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"That thing you said earlier." He replies to her. "About bloodthirsty tributes? That damn fucker, Leroy, keeps producing."

"What about them?"

"I can't help but think my sister was like that," he sighs as he walks to the windows looking at the view once more. "That Silica was going to end up being like one of those bloodthirsty tributes, the borderline maniacs."

"That's Ajax and Leroy's production, she was just caught up in all the lies they promised her."

"Yeah."

At this point the atmosphere changes, the once celebratory tone had changed to that of sadness and hurt. Lyre flicks her eyes to the picture frame on her shelf, the one showing her older brothers. Would she react the same as Fossil if it were her brothers being brainwashed by Leroy and his subordinate?

Although two graduates of their academy, Adrestia Stark and Brasidas Clovenstone seem completely fine. Bloodthirsty in the arena? She would say so, but on the outside, she could see the loneliness of Ms. Stark whenever she leaves her home in the village. Brasidas too look somewhat dejected, as if he could not believe that he had killed so many in his time in the arena.

Broken the way those two have found them; broken when they exit the arena. She would make sure that the tributes they train here is not only talented and skilled but also nurtured and thought respect and honour above all.

She'll make it her life mission to do so.

* * *

 _ **In the far future...**_

* * *

The quarry still stood as strong even to this day. The village had expanded somewhat and accommodated the growth Secutor Academy offered the district. Citizens were prouder of their tributes that ever before too.

It was bittersweet, however, as this year was the Third Quarter Quell. Victors, friends and family, are reaped back into the arena for one more chance at survival. No, she cannot say that this was what they ever anticipated but the President had become more paranoid as each new victor is crowned.

She supposed that it all led up to this. Rebellion was in an all-time high, even in her own district there were whispers of rebellion, riots plagued Two like wildfire most nights; even more so as victors from all twelve districts make their way to the Capitol again; not as mentors but as tributes.

The twist was definitely cruel, she sighed as she walked the empty halls of her school; her hard work. Her outfit still that of what she wore to the Reapings; a slick black dress suit and pants; the victors that had volunteered themselves were graduates of Gladius; her alumni and former students all rejected the idea of going back to the arena, she did too until one of them had hatched a plan. It wasn't a good one, but it was necessary.

Lyre Feldspar, now a grand age of seventy-six, walked through the halls of the school. She passed by pictures of all the graduates; the victors that Secutor had produced and she felt a small tinge in her heart as she passed by her brother-in-law's picture.

"What would you have done?" She said to his picture. "Would you have fought to the end or would you be complacent. I know that old man Fossil is fighting to the very end, he wanted to volunteer too but was stopped by pretty much everyone else."

She laughed at the memory, of only a few days, of Fossil formally volunteering himself and unanimously got a firm 'no' in return. He had pouted, and they suggested he be the advisor; the man had agreed, even though he could barely walk, the man still had moxie.

She reached her office, it was still pristine, just as how she always kept it. The picture that adorned the walls were graduates of her school; those that go on to find work in the district and others volunteering for the Games; behind her seat is still the family portrait, beside that is the latest picture of all the victors; Secutor and Gladius as well as the Nut alumni all in one picture.

She picked it up, most of earlier victors are long gone; another thought of sadness that had invaded her mind. She took a seat as she placed the picture frame back to where it belonged. This was her legacy, the office, the building, the school. For forty years she had held the position of trainer then advisor.

It was then that she found something off about the whole Quarter Quell twist. Only that she had realised it too late. She looked up to see a figure in front of her; dressed in all black, a mask obscured their face, the hat they wore gave away where it was from. She could only scoff at that; her reaction did not phase the figure in front of it as they pulled a gun, more like a pistol and pointed it directly at her head.

"So that's the plan, huh?" she said as she just sat there, placed her elbows on the ebony wooden desk. "I hope he burns in hell."

The figure had fired a shot, a single shot entered her skull. The victor collapsed immediately at the sheer force of the bullet; no one around her to even stop her assailant. It was the perfect plan, no one can save them now as the whole nation are disturbed and restless; their eyes full of fear and anger at what is to come.


	19. Rolex Parker

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
District Seven Train Station  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 9**_

* * *

We had stepped off from the train, and for such a long time I could smell fresher air than the Capitol could ever provide me; even touring some of the previous arenas and botanical gardens didn't give such a pleasant, genuine smell of pine, oak, and various other smells I can't even name.

District Seven truly is a special place, vast and green in appearance. Compared to Eight only a day ago, with it's smoke ridden air and darkened sky, Seven looks like paradise. It took us a day and a bit to reach Seven, Julia and her team had already left this morning into the Justice Building, her escort had been panicking about being late ever since we started the tour. I think she's being paranoid for nothing.

I begin my walk to the district's Justice Building when a hand holds onto my shoulder to try and stop me. I look back to see that Lincoln was there, in his plain clothes. He must be off-duty again, I offer him a smile, but he doesn't return it; instead I'm met with a sombre looking face.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I turn around fully.

"Six is coming up."

I could only nod and tell him to walk with me to the building. He reluctantly begins to move beside me as we take in the sight of a barren centre, dirt tracks and warehouses is present here amongst buildings and tenements. The real houses must be deeper in the forest and this barren area acts as a hub of some sort.

"Are you planning on visiting family?" I ask him suddenly and he seems taken aback by that.

"Ye-yeah, I'm planning on taking a day off." There's something there that he's quite not telling me, but I press no further.

"I could take a day off too and come with you if you want." I sat suddenly, and he looks at me with a half-smile. "I can be your moral support."

He chuckles at that. "Yeah that sounds brilliant."

* * *

 _ **Mentor Room  
Eighteenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

 _ **Balas Beacon,  
Victor of the Second Hunger Games**_

* * *

There's nothing more infuriating than seeing his tribute die at the last hurdle. Yet, that's exactly what the fool had done. The boy was a prodigy, not from a Great House mind you, and he was a shoe-in for victory. That is until he had made a crucial mistake of using his hands instead of the weapons he had provided.

And so he watched as that boy from Three, Rolex Parker, bash his tribute's skull into one of the moss-covered rocks that protruded in the thick forest arena. He could not watch any longer, and after being stuck in this room for three days he was astounded at how surprisingly strong that Three boy was, he had largely ignored him much like his previous predecessors; now he had to watch out for another district possibly claiming victory above One.

Oh how he hated that.

* * *

 _ **Flash Gladstone  
Victor of the Ninth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He was tasked in mentoring the female tribute of One. Although, he had pegged her for an early death; a _'cannon fodder'_ as what some of his students back at home would day. She didn't volunteer, no one did this year, for the females anyway.

Sweet and endearing, the girl tried her best to be what his students are normally like in Beacon Academy. It's been operational for three years and have yet to take home a victor. Are they doing something wrong? Perhaps.

What surprised Flash the most is how much this sweet girl had survived, making it to the final day, albeit just following her district partner in the arena. She made up for her lack of weaponry skills with what she had learned at the survival stations that he had encouraged her to go into. Her fire-starting skills definitely came in handy during the cold nights.

However, since she was following the idiot that was her district partner, she too died at the hands of the Three boy. She didn't even stand a chance, and the guilt that had wrought him would stay with him for the rest of his life. Her death had spurred him to train more female tributes of the academy, so that they stood a chance at victory too.

* * *

 _ **Leroy Ramnes  
Victor of the First Hunger Games**_

* * *

He had trained the male to win. He focused all his energy and time for this kid and he raged and shouted every expletive that he could at Fossil when his tribute had died, from having his skull opened against a rock shortly after the initial bloodbath.

The arena was unforgiving this year in that it had not contained weapons, and Leroy had all the plans of sending his tribute a weapon but all of that went down the drain as the boy bled to death on the first day from a severe head wound.

Fossil? He hated the man even more; both the tributes were trained by him, but he took over the management of the female tribute. He clearly told her to betray the trust they had over each other, district loyalty out the window.

He threw his chair across the room on his way out, turning around to see if Fossil had done anything, but still no reaction from his fellow mentor as he was focused on what he was going to do next; especially now that all the male tributes funds have dissolved into Fossil's tributes.

* * *

 _ **Fossil Mazon  
Victor of the Seventh Games**_

* * *

He was livid, in fact just as angry as Leroy was when his tribute had died on the first day. Unlike him though, he really cared about this tribute. Only because this tribute was his sister. The minute his sister was pronounced dead with a resounding cannon fire, the victor stood up from his seat, chair scraping the floor.

He looked to the door, but at his peripheral vision he could see the smug look of Balas Beacon. What made his fury go tenfold was when he shrugged his shoulders too, an apology dying at the tips of his lips, instead offered by a smirk.

Fossil had said nothing as he left the room, a few mentors remaining in the somewhat small viewing room. He left as fast as he could, dropped to the ground floor and outside in the busy streets of the Capitol. He needed to get away from all of this, he walked past Capitolites wanting autographs, he ignored everything and everyone.

As soon as he had entered the tribute quarters and into his designated room, that's when he had unleashed his rage. Chairs, lavish and heavy, were thrown at the walls. Wooden ornate wardrobes had holes appear out of them from his repeated punches; pillows ripped to pieces as feathers explode everywhere.

He wanted to take his revenge, he hated Balas, even though it was not his fault. He hated himself for allowing Silica for even entering the Games; but she had insisted and was far too gone in the delusion that she would win.

He even hated the victor of the Games, and it would take a long time until he would forgive the person even though he had nothing to do with it.

* * *

 _ **Packard Lee  
Rebel Mentor for District Three**_

* * *

There were fleeting moments within the underground prison of Three where he was allowed to go out and get some fresh air, as much fresh air that Three offered, but he loved it. It was finite, however, and he would have to spend the twenty-three hours underground in the dreary cell. He awaited the day where he was freed from such hell.

Those days are now gone. Eighteen years of being stuck like that and now he was free. One of his tributes had actually done the impossible and broke the spell. There were tears that threatened his eyes as he watched the screen intently.

He was free and that's all that mattered to him, not the fact that his tribute had to murder seven other children with nothing but the environment and brute force to gain his freedom. His curse was broken. He will never have to look or watch this wretched malediction ever again.

* * *

 _ **Arlo Venilia  
Victor of the Twelfth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He had told his tribute not to be reckless.

However, it seemed to be fallen on deaf ears as the boy had saw the Three tribute on the second day. With nothing but his fists, the boy had charged right into the boy, who had already killed one or two tributes at this point.

He was a lost cause, he had figured when the boy would not listen to anything during their train ride over the Capitol. Arlo was only mainly here to look after his fellow victor, Triton, as he mentored for the first time.

* * *

 _ **Triton Stromubs  
Victor of the Seventeenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

His first tribute of the Games was a small fourteen-year-old. The school he had opened last year had been successful in gaining students, but it was still too late to teach these children valuable skills. He watched as the girl had charged for something in the Cornucopia only to be killed by a more strong and able-bodied tributes.

Her death had only made him more determined to work so hard for his namesake academy. His determination would be unstoppable from then on. He stayed after her death and spent time learning the ropes from Arlo and once his tribute had died, they both went back to the tribute quarters.

During which Triton had collapsed in a crying mess. It took Arlo almost two or so hours to calm the boy down, all Triton could say that he had failed her miserably. His tribute dead in the arena, she had a life prior to this, he had regretted asking all about it, but Triton couldn't help it.

* * *

 _ **Joules Sebold  
Rebel Mentor for District Five**_

* * *

He must remind himself to put two more notches in his prison cell wall when he gets back home. His tributes were not as driven as he would like them to be and therefore they would suffer amongst the many that died in the bloodbath on the first day.

He sighed as he left the room, escorted by Peacekeepers back to the train station, handcuffed to one of them. He had not seen his family in so long. He had wanted to escape with them during the collapse of the First Rebellion, to Four where they had all planned to meet but he was caught. The last time he saw a member of his family was his eldest son, Clark, as he was reaped to represent district Four; only to be killed in a second bloodbath between the Two, One and Ten boy during the Fifteenth Hunger Games.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Now he's going back to the same old cell, he didn't know how much of this he could take. He wanted to die here and now but he knew that they would never let that happen. He would be stuck like this until either he dies of old age or he mentors a victor.

He knows that will never happen.

* * *

 _ **Martyn Handyside  
Rebel Mentor for District Six**_

* * *

He was too old for this, he knew that much. Different year same old shit. He was fed up with all the lacklustre tributes that were being reaped, none of them had ever been that good. He knew that one day that he would be free, but he doesn't know when that will be.

Maybe he should just give up all together. He sure knew that his district has at this point. All he could do when both his tributes had died in the bloodbath was leave silently, he packed all his stuff and is guided back to the train station, guarded by four Peacekeepers.

* * *

 _ **Thomas Trellia  
Victor of the Fifth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He couldn't see well, his vision had all but blurred and he was seeing double already. It was early morning when the bloodbath had begun. His cheeks were already red and rosy, his breath and sweat stink of alcohol.

Thomas had begun to drink to forget the horrors of what he had done both inside the arena and outside. A past that he had kept for so long, his drunken haze could not even identify if his tribute had died yet in the bloodbath, but he didn't care, he required more alcohol.

His fellow victor, Gideon, can handle the rest. He was off to go drink some more.

* * *

 _ **Gideon Clerwood  
Victor of the Fourteenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He was struggling and not coping very well.

Gideon was already in the tribute quarters watching the aftermath of the Games, or rather a replay of the events of the Games. He had envisioned that the female tribute for Seven would have made it far; she had gusto and was fierce.

However, he could feel himself grow worried as he saw leagues of trees and mossy rocks when they first see the arena. The Cornucopia itself had one sword, the only weapon available in that arena. Wedged into a large stone, gleaming in the sunlight as if it was like a spotlight.

She was confident that she could take that sword, but she didn't take it very well when that same weapon managed to find itself buried in her chest during the Cornucopia bloodbath. Gideon had left the minute that had happened, Arlo and Rooster asking if he wanted to meet up for drinks later.

"I gotta find the old man first." He said to them both. "I'll meet up with you guys later, same place?"

His friends nodded and agreed on a time. As he sits inside the tribute quarters though he could feel a sense of dread in the back of his mind, how another tribute is going to haunt his dreams again. He could hear her voice already and that's when he took it as a sign, picked up the cup on the pristine glass coffee table and threw it at the wall.

He wants to get better, and it's not going to work if he keeps his head down.

* * *

 _ **Mary Fetzner  
Rebel Mentor for District Eight**_

* * *

She didn't think she could stop crying, even on the train ride home. She watched as fields, trees, mountains and lakes pass by her blurry vision and disappeared as fast as she saw them. She had been in tears since the start of the Games.

The proposition that a rebel mentor can be waived of their crimes if they can get a victor home is all bullshit and she knew that. Eight tributes in general don't make it very far in the arena, there are some outliers, of course, but there's always someone that stops them.

What she had done is stopped pleading that she was innocent, she can't be that innocent anymore. Not after telling her tributes to kill at every opportunity, so that she could be set free. Her words felt disgusting in her mouth, but she was desperate.

She never wanted this, she never wanted rebellion. It was all her husband, he instigated the war in Eight and led several hundreds to their death. Whereas he got the sweet release of death she was captured, she pleaded then; pleaded that she had nothing to do with it, but no one believed her, not since they all lost.

If there was one thing she wanted the most in her life, is to see if her children are still alive or not.

* * *

 _ **Adlay Durum  
Victor of the Third Hunger Games**_

* * *

He felt funny these days, his concept of reality so far detached from the truth. His haze of drunkenness along with the highs and the lows were the only company he could keep. His mistakes in the past piled up high like looming towers that threaten to fall upon his death.

On the third day, in the very morning he didn't even notice that his tributes had died. His head pounded, the hangover had made him more nauseous than before. He could feel his breakfast, what little he had ate, threaten to come up.

It was only when he had watched some form of recaps on his way home to Nine that the victor had killed the male tribute and the female was finished off by the One boy. No discernible losses there, he had thought, as he continued to drink, his light brown eyes stared outside the golden fields of his home.

* * *

 _ **Rooster McCoy  
Victor of the Thirteenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

There were moments in the Hunger Games that Rooster was really thankful. He got to be away from the restlessness of his home life in Ten and the relevant stagnation it offered. The Reapings had reaped two younger tributes.

His ward was the male and he didn't last long either. That was one of the reasons he was thankful for the Hunger Games. The kids were dealt a bad hand, that he can assure them, but at least their deaths were quick and painless.

All his efforts were focused on keeping Maybelle safe and sound as she struggled to keep herself together year after year. He watched her as they board the train back to the very mundane district Ten. He really needed something to do when he gets back home, otherwise he'd end up bored to death.

* * *

 _ **Maybelle Davis  
Victor of the Fifteenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

She tried her best this time around, but even she knew that a twelve-year-old could never win a Hunger Games. No one this small, even if they wanted to fight their hardest, could ever win. She felt positive, but life and fate had different plans as the girl lost her life being bashed to rocks.

She could cry, in fact she did, on the train ride home. His mentor and close friend, Rooster, sat outside her room all night as she bawled her eyes out. She was growing up, at nineteen she still felt like that scared child that had to watch her district partner die in front of her eyes.

She made a mental note in her head to go and visit this tribute on her weekly trips to the cemetery, make sure she paid them the respect that they all deserved from her; just as atonement for failing them.

* * *

 _ **Bergamot Musambi  
Victor of the Tenth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He stayed relatively under the radar for several years, passing on interviews and book deals and anything to dragged him back to the Capitol. He wanted to stay at his own district and help out his mother. Bergamot was never one for fame.

He spent most of his days in his district helping the public, whether that be odd jobs or errands, he would do it. However, both his tributes had died at the hands of Rolex Parker, the victor of the Eighteenth Hunger Games.

He stood outside the victor's door at the hospital wing in the tribute centre. He wanted to congratulate the man for becoming victorious before he left the Capitol and back to his comfortable home in Eleven, where he was safe in his own four walls.

But he bit his tongue and left without a word.

He guessed that he was not a better man after all.

* * *

 _ **Filip Austen  
Rebel Mentor for District Twelve**_

* * *

He wanted to leave fast, his last remaining tribute had died during the second day of the Games, but he stayed to watch the outcome. He had scraped enough money to bet on the boy from One. However, it was when Rolex brutally murdered the tribute he had put a bet on he wanted to fight someone, namely that smug look of Packard Lee.

The former rebel had locked eyes with the one celebrating, he shouted and yelled. He had gained his freedom and he had not, and that infuriated Filip somehow. He had his fist ready to hit something, it turned a ghostly white and he was about to do something, but he had decided against it.

He was already in trouble from the Capitol for conspiring with the now extinct Thirteen, he didn't want to be blatantly executed.

He'll do better next year.

* * *

They all will.


	20. Hamish Brighton

_**Phineus Keenzest  
Master of Ceremonies  
Aftermath of the Nineteenth Hunger Games  
Interview**_

* * *

The process was simple. He was to interview the boy after being crowned victor of the Nineteenth Hunger Games. It was one of his favourite jobs of being Master of Ceremonies. The fact that he could command people to speak to him, the tributes before the Games and the victors after; he relished in the thought that he could make them squirm.

However, the newest victor is not like previous ones. Hamish Brighton sat opposite him amongst the blinding lights, the noise of the Capitol audience deafened him. The boy was not stunned at all by the harsh light and eruption of the crowd at the mention of his name.

Hamish sat there, dignified, yet fierce. His stern, brown eyes burned something in Phineus' heart that he hadn't felt in a while. Fear. He did not like that, and he will try everything under his power to break that façade this boy is playing.

He was going to have to introduce this brat first and he knew that it would cause another uproar from the braindead crowd. Sometimes he wanted to believe that he was one of the only few people out there in the Capitol that had a proper sense of self, and not just a sheep.

He smoothened his dazzling crimson coloured suit jacket and smiled his pearly white teeth. Bright green eyes stared at the crowd with renewed vigour from his quiet form only moments ago, ready to do his job correctly. He even stood up for the effect and the crowd felt hyped by this.

"Hamish Brighton everybody!" He said with a tremendous shout to the crowd. "Boy do we have such a good show for you tonight!"

He sat back down on the cream seat, he took a drink of what he can only assume was alcohol, to loosen the nerves. Hamish sat on the similarly coloured sofa, with the same look he had before he was introduced; the crown given to him by the President sat on his head as if it had always belonged there. The gold laced black suit he wore gave the same impression; that he was part of the victor royalty now.

Oh how he hated that.

"Now, Mr. Brighton, first question," he gauged the situation as the boy shifted slightly. "At the moment of victory, can you describe to us how you felt?"

The victor scoffed first before he answered. "Sad? What do you want me to say? Happy? There's blood on my hands, how else do you think I should feel?"

"Elated, perhaps?" He countered but the boy stayed silent, it riled him a little bit but it's nothing to be angry about. "I just think that you should feel a bit more grateful."

"There's nothing grateful about what I did, what some of those tributes did."

The crowd gasped and Phineus internally sighed to himself. He's going to have to spin this into a new direction, but he couldn't think of one. He decided that he should derail conversations about the Games for now and start with his home district first. That way the crowd can feel safe around someone as angry as the boy in front of him now.

"Let's talk about something else." He said and leaned forward. "District Five. What's it like there?"

"Haven't you already asked me about this during my first interview?" He said abruptly.

"I want to...actually the crowd wants to know more about it." Phineus replied without even a flinch; the crowd backed him up with a cheer and some applause.

"Five is…Five." He said as he looked at him directly.

"It can't just be like that, can it?"

"What else is there to say about it?" He said and Phineus felt like he opened up another can of worms. "There's poverty in every corner, there's a power plant in every horizon you look at. It's not as glamorous as what pamphlets here say it is."

"But still you call it home."

"I called it Five, I don't think it's safe enough to be a home."

The crowd audibly showed their worry for the boy and followed with a chorus of 'aww' that seemed to have made the boy squirm somewhat. "Well if it's not a home, yet, then what about your parents or siblings? Do they call it a home?"

"Yeah…" He said as he looked down. "It's just my Ma, and my two sisters now. The Capitol took my brother two years ago."

He could feel eyes on him when the boy had said 'took' but he ignored it, it seemed that the boy felt some form of remorse and he could play to that kind of tune. He leaned in closer, so that Hamish felt a bit safe before he could ask another question.

"Where you close?" He asked. "Your brother and you?"

"I suppose we were, he was older by a year, and after my father had disappeared when I was born he had taken the reins as head of the household." He said.

"But since he sadly passed away?"

"I had to be that person."

"And did your mother take it well?"

"She worried for my health." He said, but he shook his head with another scoff. "I don't even know how you got me talking…"

"No, no this is good." Phineus felt the victor visibly shut down his attempts at breaking him down.

That's it now. He didn't think he would get anything else from him in that particular topic. He didn't want to give up though, they still have a few more minutes on the stage. The open-ended location of the interview still had a bit of the sunlight peeking through the horizon, so he returned to the arena.

"Let's talk about you district partner." He said, and he could see the boy's jaw as it clenched. "Ada Pascal, was it? How did you feel having a district partner far younger than most of the competitors this year?"

"I-I…" He saw that the boy was flustered beyond comparison, that angry boy lost all sort of his composure, then with a whisper he answered. "I felt really sorry for her."

Obviously, he caught that but he wanted him to repeat it. "I'm sorry what was that?"

"I said, I felt really sorry for her." He regretfully said, it felt like he struggled to have admitted it.

"Why? You knew that she would have to die for you to sit here?"

"But not like the way she did!" Anger rose from the boy's voice and it took nearly a minute for him to have calmed. "Not the way those sick fucks from Two killed her."

"Speaking of…how did you feel when those supposed _blood_ in your hands composed of her killers."

"It felt great, those cocky motherfuckers deserved every bit of the mace I handed to their faces." The whole crowd was silent when he said that, not that they actually cared for the detail, but they were all engaged with his talking. "Should've seen them during training, they intimidated everyone that felt intimidated."

"And you didn't take it?"

"Of course not." He said as he straightened up, the crown jostled slightly to the side. "However, they really threatened Ada and that did not sit right with me."

"I see…" Phineus tried to analyse the boy now, he seemed incredibly angry but that's not new, he knew that Hamish had been like this since he first met the Five victor; however, what he was surprised was that he was a very caring person outside that though exterior. "Did you view Ada as a sort of little sister then?"

Flustered, Hamish could only nod and it earned his second round of applause and 'aww' from the audience, this time the boy didn't seem to get as mad at the fact. There was one more thing that he needed to talk about, the Six boy on the second day of the Games.

"The Six boy." He said and Hamish tensed up. "What happened between you and him."

"What can I say? He was a goner, his stomach sliced open and his neck even worse than that." He said without much thought. "It seemed like the right thing to do, to end his suffering."

"Well, I can tell that you'd be a great mentor to our future tributes." He watched as the boy seemed to scoff at his comment, last question he wanted to ask the boy and that would be his last interview from him.

"So, what's next?"

* * *

 _ **Hamish Brighton  
Victor of the Nineteenth Hunger Games  
After the Interviews  
District Five**_

* * *

The journey from the Capitol to Five was a long one. Not that he really cared, he was just happy to be away from the constant lights and sounds of the Capitol. He wanted to go back to his family and provide them with everything he could never have before. He had fallen asleep just before they arrived at the station; Joules Sebold spouted enough nonsense about what he was going to do now that he was freed from mentoring duties that Hamish fell asleep completely.

When he stepped off in district Five he remembered that he might never return to this place. Like he said in the interview, he saw the power plant immediately in the horizon. The smell was different too, smokier than the fresher air that the Capitol offered. He didn't expect anyone to have waited for his return but when he did step off he saw that his mother was there, her eyes brown and tearful; hair ruffled from working in the factories.

He ran to her in an instant, her arms opened automatically for him to slot into place. She smelled off coal and smoke from the powerplant she worked in but also a hint of orange. She always loved oranges and he made sure to get some for her as his first purchase with his earnings.

"I'm sorry for the profanity, if you saw the interview." He said into her blouse and he could feel her laugh.

"It's quite alright, but don't make a habit of it in the house." She said with a smile. "Now let's get you home."

He nodded, and they walked in comfortable silence, Peacekeepers joined them and as he was about to turn the corner to his usual route home he was stopped by one of them. He was going to fight back but his mother held onto his shoulder. She shook her head to him and pointed in a different direction.

"We were moved into the first house in the Victor's Village this morning." She smiled. "Everyone is there already."

"What about my stuff?"

"They're there too."

They made they're way to an unfamiliar route, streets much the same but the housing seemed better, almost intact. It felt almost wealthy as they walked down the avenue, the sight of the village appeared in the horizon. He ran up ahead, he hated how excited he felt. The iron gates of the village opened, and he walked in, his shoes hit white gravel paths as he walked towards the centre of the area.

He was disappointed not because it was a park, but right in the middle are the power plants of the districts; the nuclear and fossil fuel power plants, the windmills, the solar plant and the dam. He thought he could've have escaped the vista of power plants but alas he could not.

His mother had appeared then and guided them to their new house, ghostly white walls a wooden porch surrounded by grey metal fences. It looked painfully plain, but it was better than their old run-down house.

They walked into the house, his eyes marvelled at everything remotely new. The ceiling was high, a mezzanine showed an exposed second floor of the house. The walls were cream coloured and the floors wooden.

It was more open than what he expected, he could see his sisters as they cooked up a storm; they stopped what they were doing as they rushed to his side, both gave him a hug and at that moment he felt loved. However, something plagued his mind. the last question that the Master of Ceremonies had asked him before the interview had finished. _'What's next?'_

He didn't know. It all felt uncertain, the victory, the interview, everything. He felt overwhelmed to the point that he had to take a step back from everyone. His sisters looked on with concern, but he assured them that he was just tired. His mother too didn't feel like she believed it, but she let it happen as he made his way up wooden stairs to what he thought was his room.

* * *

Hamish couldn't sleep, or rather he would not. The question in his head swirled around in his mind that it stopped him from doing anything else. He didn't know what was next, he saw how brutal the Capitol could be, he wasn't sure if they could do something to him despite being victor now. He didn't know if he was exempt from such things.

That's when he decided that he needed to go somewhere. The place he always went to whenever something was on his mind. He doesn't want to get stopped by his mother by walking up the front door, so he was doing it the old-fashioned way; through the window.

He didn't expect for him to get down so easily from the second floor of the house. The plain looking white houses in the village had a trellis to the side that led to the garden. He made a note to plant that orange tree for his mother whenever he gets the time.

After he left the comforts of his own home within the village he made it to the pathway he had walked earlier in the afternoon. Then his autopilot kicked in, his body moved its way the old beaten down paths and streets. His feet moved fast and quiet, and it almost felt like he was back in the arena; a thought he wanted to get rid of immediately.

The district was quiet. Curfew had fallen a close two hours or so now, yet the Peacekeepers don't enforce it enough for them to patrol the streets. So, he walked calmly in the night. Clouds nowhere to be seen, the stars in the sky gleamed bright and the moon hung in the sky all bright.

His feet made its way up the richer side of the district, wealthier than the street that led up to the Victor's Village. He stood first, beside the dam and admired it before he made his way up to the artificial lake of Five, the one used for the dam itself to power most of the district and the Capitol itself.

The lake reflected the stars and the moon like a mirror, the wind calmed him as it ruffled his shirt. In the distance he saw a figure that lay by the stones and gravel of the artificial lake. He made his way towards that figure.

"Took you long enough." He said as he approached him.

"Boson," he said as he lay beside him to look at the stars. "How did you know I would be here?"

"You're a creature of habit, Hame, you always come here after a big event." He laughed, his eyes never left the sky. "Winning the Hunger Games sounds like such an event."

"Yeah."

"You're not your usual self." He said as he looked at Hamish. "What's up?"

"That guy, from the interview." He said. "What he asked me really bothered me, I can't get it out of my head."

"Just ignore the clown." He smiled, and Hamish looked to his friend. "People like that just do stuff for the crowd."

"But, I didn't answer it. I don't know what's next."

"You mentor, you keep everyone alive."

"I can't." He said, loud enough to cause interference. "I can't keep everyone alive, only one of the two can ever go home."

"Then you try your best so that they at least stand a chance." He told him as he sat up. "Hamish, you are an awesome human being, you work your ass off for everyone around you. I think you'll do just fine. What happens next has nothing to do with him anyway."

Hamish said nothing, but he couldn't help but feel a smile as it crept on his face.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
District Six  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 10**_

* * *

The early morning stroll through the streets of district Six feels so solemn. The buildings and the road, and any sort of infrastructure is so poorly maintained that I'm afraid that some of them will fall on top of me. Nevertheless, it was nice to explore Six, especially with Lincoln.

However, I can feel the sadness emanating from the younger man and it's making me feel uneasy. There's something he's hiding from me that I want to find out what, but I feel that he's not going to say anything.

We make it to the streets outside of the centre into what is known as Sector Two. The stark difference is already showing itself and I couldn't help but make a face that I can only attribute to concern and worry, for myself, sure but what if Lincoln isn't enough to protect me?

Homeless people wander the streets like zombies, the housing dilapidated more so from Sector One. There's not a shred of humanity in here, it makes me wonder and thankful how lucky I truly am to live in the Capitol but also a little bit guilty that there are people living like this outside the gilded gates.

Upon researching the victors there had been, at best, a handful of Six victors. Tributes from Six tend to be in such disadvantage much like Eight and Twelve, no physical labour for the former two and Twelve seem to just get shafted at every turn.

"There's something I need to tell you," Lincoln breaks the silence as we continue to aimlessly walk the streets. "I'm a descendent of Equss Walker…"

" _The_ Equss Walker? As in rebel mentor?" I say almost quietly, in case anyone is watching us converse. "This is huge, in fact, wait isn't he from Ten?"

"Originally we were from Four, or so my grandfather said anyway." He stops, and I stop with him. "My family has been around that long, since before the Dark Days, moving from Four to Ten just before it all blew over, with Equss being captured and being made mentor as an example, then during the Fortieth Hunger Games they moved again."

"To here?"

"My dad said it was the safest out of all the district."

"It's a shit hole, let's call a spade a spade, Lincoln."

"Yeah, it is." He laughs. "But it's my home, I grew up here. Faced the hardships, went through the Reapings."

"What happened during the Fortieth?" I ask him and he scrunches his face.

"An assassination happened, in the Capitol, Julius Nepos the current President at the time was killed by rebels, no one knew who it was but Equss Walker and his son Beau, took the blame and was executed."

"So your grandfather and your father moved in case they were blamed as well?"

"Precisely, and then many, many years later I was born, well my brother was first but then there's me."

"That's quite a history," I tell him. "Is this why you knew so much about the Hunger Games?"

"My Great, Great Grandpappy held a diary about all the victors until his death." He smiles as he taps his nose. "I can't give it to you, family heirloom and all."

"No, I wasn't going to ask you for it." I laugh with him, we start to walk again, stepping on cracked grey pavements.

I admire the streetlights, Capitol standard ones, some missing light bulbs and others bent out of place. If you drop a group of Capitolites here now, then they'd think they were in an arena. It feels abandoned but the amount of people that we pass by that's either drugged beyond comprehension or have asked them for some spare money breaks that illusion, although you can argue that it is abandoned, and these people live here because it's the only place left.

We stop in front of a house, nicer in comparison to some but still beaten-down. Cracks burst upwards from the bottom of the home all the way to the top, one big push could threaten to knock it down.

"That's my house," Lincoln says. "Just me now."

"You father?"

"Missing, along with my grandfather." He says concern on his face. "Been missing ever since I graduated from the Peacekeeper Academy here."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, they warned me that if I went ahead with it then they'll abandon me, and they did."

"That's still a pitiful excuse." I tell him and he just smiles at me, then it turns into a sadder smile.

"I have one last thing to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I'm…taking a break." He tells me with such heartache. "Forced leave by the new head of Peacekeeping."

"Julia?" My question came out more shocked than anything but the man in front of me didn't react. "I can maybe talk to her, so you can come back."

"No." He stops me. "I want to take it."

"So I won't ever see you again?"

"Maybe someday." He tells me with a pat to my shoulder. "Goodbye, Cade."

With that he disappears within his rundown home. The door shuts and I'm left looking at it with shock, my heart feels like it's been wrenched out by a cork opener. It's shocking how much I've grown accustomed to Lincoln.

However, I can't stay here with him. As much as I want to, there's too much at stake back in the Capitol, besides my brother will be a worried wreck if I just up and disappear forever.

I'll come back for you, Lincoln, when things settle, if it ever settles. I'll never forget you.


	21. Chanelle Gieves

Beacon Academy.

Situated in the heart of the district of One, a building that shines like its namesake. Attracting the wealthy business owners and the prestigious with their charming classes and outstanding quality of teachers. The concept has had a rocky start since it opened after the Fifteenth Hunger Games, not a lot of people could afford the entry tuition, but that tune changed when a graduate became successful in the Hunger Games.

That's not the only thing that they offered, however. Beacon Academy offers a myriad of classes; from social etiquette and morality classes, to training for Peacekeeping duties, or the Hunger Games if you were especially good and under the eye of the victors.

No one is as proud of this academy than the two people that had given it life: Balas Beacon and Flash Gladstone. It was more Flash's idea, he hated what he saw in the Hunger Games. His friends and fellow district tributes dying year by year in the Games. He wanted to open something that can help these tributes; Balas just changed the odds so that he can have more victors to join his little club.

Balas Beacon had become the headmaster of this establishment and he was praised by it. He was fair with the selection process, but he was biased; prejudiced over his fellow Great Houses. He wanted the school to be purely on them and the Lesser Great Houses. He even experimented on some of them, in a way that he would train them up to join the Hunger Games, to identify the risks, so that Great Houses can have the best of chances.

After five years of research, he had done it. The perfect formula in how to win the odds of the Hunger Games.

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Reapings**_

* * *

Only the prestigious and the greatest is chosen to stand up on that stage. A stage for the whole of Panem to see, shining in splendour; the best of the best. She wanted that, oh how badly she wanted it with all her might.

So she did her best, excelled in every subject she had, fought in every training she could do with any weapon that was offered to her. Just so she can take the eye of Balas and Flash. To prove to them that she was good, that she can do great things with her life.

They had no one else to pick but her, she held all the records currently in place. Her results were consistent across the board. If there was one thing that she didn't do well was work in a group, she lacked the capacity to work in a team which may have dampened her chances, but that was not the case at all.

As she stands within her peers during the Reapings, her palms felt sweaty; her hair was down, and she wore a pastel pink summer dress, on the instruction of Balas. She trusts everything he says, they've known each other ever since she was born, and she adored the stories he would tell about the Capitol.

She was infatuated at the thought of going over there, and every year since she turned twelve she would wish that she was reaped just so she can experience the marvellous Capitol. Now that she's eighteen and have known better, it would have probably been a mistake on her part. This is why she trained her hardest in order to volunteer herself, to finally see those tall skyscrapers and experience true luxury.

When the escort draws a name from the ladies' bowl and shouts it for the whole district to hear she raises her hands high up in the air and volunteered herself. Her voice sounded confident and clear, a strength within her exploded as she raced to the stage. She patted the girl that was reaped, a small fourteen-year-old, who looked more than thankful that she was not to enter the Hunger Games.

No one else had contested her at this point. They wouldn't dare, she was better than most of them by a country mile. She flashed her white teeth, flicked her blonde hair at the stage cameras; she's doing everything that Balas is telling her to do.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity." She says through the microphone. "I am Chanelle Gieves of House Gieves and I am your next victor!"

She didn't expect the round of applause that followed. A genuine shocked expression painted her face and that only elevated her confidence. She waved at her citizens with glee; she had never felt this appreciated in her life before and she craved more.

Her district partner had soon volunteered too, he was the best of the rest. Tad Osborne from the Lesser House of Osborne stood tall, a person that seemed to have trained for most of the year but never really pursued it; she had never seen him at the academy before, but he seemed like he received the same trained she did; it made her curious.

They shook hands and Chanelle remarked that his handshake was strong but that was all she thought of, nothing more.

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Train Ride**_

* * *

The resulted meal time after the Reaping was a quiet affair. They sat and ate quietly, she had used the proper etiquette unlike her district partner, Tad Osborne. She made a face of disgust as he watched the boy eat like a pig, or at least a big child. She expected nothing else from a lesser house.

"You seem strong." She said to him as she wiped her lips with a napkin.

"Yeah," he said as he shoved another piece of food in his mouth but continued to eat. "I trained in this back-alley academy that offered everything Beacon does but at a cheaper price."

"It doesn't hold the same calibre as my academy." Balas interrupted their conversation and the boy just scoffed.

Chanelle narrowed her eyes at Tad. She finished off the rest of her food and turned to Balas who looked between her and Tad. He sighed as he wiped his face with the napkin. He stood up, Chanelle followed suit. Jasper, the other chosen mentor just sat there and continued to eat along with Tad.

Jasper was someone that Chanelle found curios, he's best friends with Flash and yet he doesn't come to teach in the academy. She had asked him about Jasper, but Flash had only good things to say about him. She, however, had her reasons not to trust the older victor.

"We should talk strategies." Balas said to Jasper but all he did was finish the food and stood up.

"Good idea," he said, and he looked at Tad who had stopped whatever he was doing. "You. With me."

And with that he had left through to the next carriage, without another word. Balas shook his head another sigh escaped his lips as he moved to the sofa within the dining carriage, Chanelle followed him and promptly sat beside him.

"I'm going to be honest with you now Chanelle." He said as he poured himself a drink from the liquor on the coffee table. "I don't give a shit about that Tad boy; my money is all on you."

"I'm not too fond of him either." Chanelle told him. "He's crass and doesn't befit the title of victor, in my opinion."

Balas laughed. "Your opinion is correct then."

"So what do you suggest I do then?"

"Keep him around, play along with what he wants to do." He said as he took a sip of the brownish liquid. "He might still have his uses."

"Yes, sir."

She then relaxed on the sofa only now realising how soft it all felt. How lavish everything around her was, the walls were covered in red wallpaper, a pattern that screamed elegance. A chandelier hung in the middle of the cart that swayed with the movement of the train. The floor was carpet that mirrored the walls.

She had never experienced such luxury. Her home was great, but this was even better, and she would stop at nothing to achieve it.

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Remake Centre**_

* * *

When they arrived in the Capitol, the first thing that Chanelle saw was the buildings. They shone brightly, much brighter than the ones back at One. She got excited, she wasn't sure why she got so excited over a bunch of buildings, but she did.

After a brief stint with camera flashes had her starstruck. Balas had told her before they disembarked that she should always smile when there are people about, that way the Capitol can see how grateful you are to be here.

Her cheeks had started hurting by the time they arrived at the Remake Centre, an attachment next to the Tribute Centre. It was pristine and clean, white lights bounce off white floors and ceilings. It blinded her at first and yet she continued to look, her eyes adjusted and in front of her was her stylist.

"Arachne Casimir, at your service." She said with a bow.

"You look absolutely gorgeous." Chanelle said, her stylist laughed as she spun around for her tribute, the black dress swished with her force, white jewels weaved into the dress is what attracted Chanelle the most, her white and grey hair had black diamonds in them too, she was like a magnificent personification of a spider.

"You flatter me too much," she continued to giggle. "Come, let's get you sorted out. There's lots of things we need to get through, new and exciting things!"

She followed her stylist, Balas had already left, to gather sponsors she thought. Not that she would have problems with them, her stylist is great and fashionable, and she no doubt that she would make her stand out.

"What are these new exciting things you mentioned earlier?" She asked her stylist and she got really excited again.

"Chariots!"

"Chariots?"

"Yes! A parade for the tributes, we, the stylists, can dress you up in relation to your district and show you off to the Capitol."

"Another chance to get some more sponsors…" She thought to herself, but realised that she was speaking out loud.

"Exactly! I have just the outfit in mind too." She winked at her and stopped in front of a metallic door, a big number '1' on it in black colour.

"Now, let's take all of these off you." She said as she gestured to her clothes once they were inside the room.

"Um..."

"Oh, darling I am a stylist." She said. "There's nothing I have never seen before, now you just focus on what you're going to do when riding those chariots."

Her gaze wandered to the mirror that surrounded her. Her body was calloused from training, yet she looked confident. If anyone commented on those then she would and could likely break them in half, despite who they were.

"Your body is well defined, you must work on it a lot."

She stayed quiet, Chanelle admired her body once more, she had put a lot of work into her body. The compliments just seemed to go all to her head, but she tried not to, modesty is a virtue they thought back in Beacon.

She was led into the second half of the room after a very cold shower. She shivered but soon she was enveloped by warmed air, almost enough to put her to sleep as she sighed into the air. She noticed that her wet body had become drier.

"Let's start with the head and work our way down." Arachne smiled.

Her hair soon become adorned with jewels, her long blonde hair acted as thread and gemstones weaved their way through it all. All the jewels she could name was in her hair, they began to shine with the white light and she was amazed at the lights they reflected, like a rainbow.

"Now let's get this dress on you."

"A dress?" She turned around to see the white dress and her eyes widened with glee. "Are those sapphires?"

Within the laces of the white dress were sapphires interweaved. She loved sapphires, it was her favourite. It made her wonder how much research they went into the tributes beforehand, it couldn't be that much. She looked fabulous as she twirled around, watching the sapphire spin around with her dress.

"You look amazing." Arachne said as she stepped back. "It's time for you to show the world."

"Thank you for everything."

"We still have so much time together, you can't praise me this early."

They laughed as she was led outside by her, the smell of perfume and other essential oils that swirled around in that room had all been eradicated by a sharp smell of horses. It twisted Chanelle's face into something awful, but she got used to the smell eventually as she approached her designated chariot.

As she made her way there, she eyed the competition and their clothes. The other tributes that were already present in the little cave they were in all looked at her with awe. She knew that her outfit was better than everyone. She held her head high and stopped by her chariot.

There were two other tributes when she had reached Tad, who stood there dressed similarly as her, instead his white suit was laced with emeralds. His strawberry-blonde hair woven with gemstones like hers.

"Ah, there she is!" Tad smiled as he hopped off the chariot and turned the other two tributes around. "Nice of you to join us, Chanelle, these are Nero and Enyo."

"Nice to meet you." She curtsied at them both and she swore the female tribute snickered.

She eyed her narrowly, with her various white cloth draped over her. Some form of leaf crown on her head. She wasn't as beautiful as her, but she definitely looked stronger. Her district partner too looked like she could snap her and Tad in half.

"Did you size up the competition too?" Enyo smiled, although it didn't look like she cared for whatever Chanelle would say.

"Yeah, I can take them."

"You?" Enyo said. "We'll see."

She rolled her eyes; the mind games were what she expected. Balas had told her that Leroy Ramnes was ruthless with his tributes and thought them tactics that focused on ruthlessness and savagery. Nothing like what she was thought in Beacon, grace and poise.

" _Attention tributes. The Tribute Parade is starting, take your position."_

"We'll see you at training."

Enyo patter her shoulder, the quiet Nero followed her. His lack of acknowledgement to her irked Chanelle slightly and Tad looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She just ignored him and as the large doors open, she began to put on a smile; she could hear the crowds as they cheered.

They cheered for her first, and they'll continue to cheer for her.

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Training, Day 1**_

* * *

The day before was still in her head. Her fingertips vibrated, and her cheeks still hurt from last night. She hadn't smiled so much in her life; her heart had beaten to such incredible speeds that she thought it might burst out of her chest.

She sat restless at the breakfast table that morning, and all she could talk about was how amazing it felt to be adored by so much people. Tad had basically ignored her musings and she scoffed at that. She felt like a child, and she is reminded by her head that she should act a lot more dignified than this, it's just that yesterday felt…divine.

"Training is starting soon." Tad watched the clock above the front door of the tribute quarters. "We should head."

She nodded and took one more bite of toast. They wore slim fitting clothes perfect for movement, the colour is grey with gold stripes. Tad's clothes fitted him in a way that Chanelle had never truly noticed until now, you could see the bit of muscle he had, and she had been caught staring for a while.

Once they left the lift into the training hall, there was a man that stood there, dark skinned and handsome, or so Chanelle thought anyway. He wore a grey suit with a white shirt and a black tie as he held on to a clipboard.

"Welcome, tributes." He said as the last few tributes wandered in. "Welcome to training! Train here for two and a half days, use whatever weapons you want and learn survival skills too. Remember to pick a skill to showcase myself and Rexton Price on the third day."

With that he left, he parted the group of tributes in his way like a knife. His brown shoes clicked on the concrete ground, it echoed quietly until it was barely audible. She looked around as the tributes had dispersed already, Tad had made his way to the sword station while most others just stayed away from any weapon.

She followed her partner, to the sword station; her only good weapon she would say is the sword. She preferred it to any other weapon that was offered during training. A slim short sword was what she picked up first, she admired it, her reflection showed a girl that's ready for the Hunger Games.

"Do you want to spar?" She stopped to look at Enyo, her outfit is the same as hers instead of a gold she had silver.

"If you want."

She watched the sword she held in her hand and the other ones on the rack behind her. She just smirked and shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow, I'll size everyone up first."

"Suit yourself." She said as she went to face one of the mannequins in the station, Tad had already wrecked a couple during the time she had spoken with Enyo.

"Before you tear that dummy to shreds," Enyo began and Chanelle could feel herself sigh inwardly. "Nero and I propose a truce."

At this time Tad had stopped practicing and turned around to the two of them. "A truce?"

"Yeah," she said as she turned to face Tad. "Like an alliance."

"I'm not sure about that idea." Chanelle said, she eyes the girl in front of her suspiciously.

"If you think about it," she explained as Tad got closer, Nero was nowhere near them, instead he was at the spear station. "Four equally strong tributes in the Hunger Games, it's a no brainer."

She pondered the idea at first. She looked to her district partner who had nodded at her, he was in. She had no choice, if she rejected the idea then it's three of them against her. It could end very badly for her.

"I'm in." She reluctantly agreed.

* * *

"An alliance?" Balas said as he paced around the room. "That sounds bad."

"That's what I thought too." Chanelle said as she sat on her velvet red bed, she sunk into the bed quite happily.

It was night time, the windows in her room, however, still illuminated her room with their lights. She could hear the party that seemed to have last even till now happen downstairs. She wanted to so desperately join them, but she had to focus.

"It could be a good idea, actually." He said as he stopped his pacing and looked at her tribute. "You can benefit from this."

"In what way?" She asked him, she had tried her best throughout the whole day to think how she could possibly benefit, but she came up with her death most of the time.

"'Keep your enemies closer.'" He said to her.

"I see," she said as she sat up from her bed. "I can continue to gather information on them."

"And you would know where they all are, arguably the three other biggest contenders of these games, at all time." He said. "Strike when the time comes."

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Private Sessions + Scores**_

* * *

" _District One Female"_

The announcement made her jump, they were all in what was the cafeteria of the training hall. She had sat with Tad for most of the morning as they waited to be reviewed by the Gamemakers. She watched the other tributes; the others were scared and nervous; whilst others looked angry and upset.

She was one of those that were upset. As the person going first, she wanted to leave an impression that would last. If they had to see twenty-three other tributes, then she should make it spectacular for them.

"I'll see you on the other side." Tad said as he waved her away, she glanced from Tad to Enyo and Nero who only nodded at her general direction.

The door through the training area slid open, and as soon as she had walked in it shut behind her. It was eerily quiet as she made her way down the deserted hall, only the faint light from the ceiling illuminated the grey floors and walls of the hall.

She traversed it, slowly and cautiously until she had reached the training hall. It was empty, or rather everything was shoved to the sides. All the stations she saw during training were here, there's a cave like area on one of the walls, it acted like a balcony completed by a glass barrier. Two figures sat there, and they looked from their conversation at her.

At that point she felt compelled to say her name. "Chanelle Gieves, District One."

"Whenever you're ready, Ms Gieves." One them smiled at her and she just nodded.

She rushed for the bow and arrow firstly, she had found the knack for the weapon during training and found it quite easy to use. She drew the string back and knocked a few arrows, then fired from a distance at the mannequins where the swords were.

They hit them with precision, some missed but most of them hit the mark she wanted. She dropped the weapon after the last arrow and ran at full speed to the sword station, she was sure the Gamemakers wouldn't have seen that from her. She picked up a short sword, weighed it in her hands first before she launched an assault at the dummies with the arrows in them.

It was such ferocity that she displayed and once it was over, she panted heavily. A total of ten dummies were ripped to shreds by her, and the two Gamemakers applauded her and they scrawled on their clipboards for any notes.

She had curtsied before she left the room.

* * *

That night they all sat at the sofa as they watched the live broadcast of the scores. Presented by the eccentric and handsome Phineus Keenzest. He smiled as he announced the scores were announced, it swirled around his head and stayed to the side. She could see her name in white, with the score of '10' displayed beside it.

"A ten!" She yelled with glee. "All my hard-work had paid off!"

"Well done Chanelle," Tad said, and his name came up at that time with a score of '9'. "I'll take a nine."

"Congratulations to the both of you." Balas said, Jasper stayed silent but flashed Chanelle a smile and she nodded at his direction. "Now let's work on your interview angles."

* * *

 _ **Chanelle Gieves, 18, District One Female  
Interviews**_

* * *

She went second, after Tad had been ingenious with his answers. All vague whenever the glorious and handsome Phineus Keenzest asked the questions. She wasn't quite sure that was the strategy that both Jasper and Balas had planned for him, but he went along with it, as usual Tad does his own thing.

His buzzer had sounded, and he was applauded out to the other side of the stage. That's when Chanelle took the stage with the grace and poise that Balas had recommended her earlier. She smiled at the crowd that cheered for her and she waved to a couple of the men, another suggestion by the victor, and they shouted her name.

"Well, well, well." Phineus said as Chanelle sat down opposite him on the chaise, cream sofa. "It seems like you're trying to gun for my spot!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Phineus." She said so casually, as if they had been friends forever.

They laughed for a moment and Phineus commented on her dress. "What an extravagant dress you have."

"Thank you," she said as she looked down at the pastel pink coloured ball gown. "My stylist, Arachne, was inspired by my reaping clothes and the colour of it."

"Well it is truly remarkable, isn't it, folks?"

The crowd cheered for her and Chanelle blushed slightly, it was all going according to what Balas had told her. Keep the crowd on your side, to be cordial with everyone. Your natural confidence will do the rest, along with your training score.

"Let's move on to the actual questions," Phineus said as the crowd quietened to a hush. "That parade, how did you feel during that time?"

"Starstruck, overwhelmed. It was like I was a princess."

"You definitely looked like one!" He said with his famous smile. "Now let's move on, a little birdy told me that you've allied yourself with the Two tributes, what is your opinion on them?"

"Well I don't deny it, but I won't say it's true either." She winked. "However, Nero is strong, quiet at times but he's more than capable. Enyo and I get along well too, I feel like we've been friends for ages."

That might not be what Enyo feels about her, but that means that Enyo wouldn't be able to say anything bad about her, or else they will have put the alliance in jeopardy. It was a strategy that she had come up with, and Balas approved of it.

"Very well, I suppose we'll just have to see it come the time you enter the arena." He said. "Lastly, if you were in this supposed alliance, what will happen if it's just the four of you left?"

"That's easy." She said as she leaned forward, a devilish grin on her face. "I win."

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
District Six  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 10**_

* * *

There's an overwhelming feeling of sadness as I hurry back to the Justice Building, to hear another speech that has been fabricated by the Capitol for the current victor to read to the crowd. However, there's something off as the closer I get to the building the more people are gathering, with banners and angry faces.

Something is wrong, I can feel it, if there's no reason to hurry before now is that reason. Pushing past the crowds and into the square, there's already a lot of people here. Out of all the other districts we have visited so far, Six has the highest appearance rate of its citizens. I look to the stage and quickly rush towards it.

A Peacekeeper stops me for a second until I can show him my badge, he apologises for being so brash and lets me up on the stage, he escorts me back into the building and the crowds begins to chant something about how unfair the Games have been.

This is going to be a shitshow for sure.

* * *

Standing by the side lines amongst the somewhat angry crowd is nerve-racking. The glares alone are enough to make me feel uneasy. They eerily stand there quietly, waiting, biding their time as Julia begins her speech.

As the moment she mentions the Capitol and its splendour that's when all hell broke loose, the crowd begins to shout hateful slurs at her. 'Murderer' and 'coward' were shouted amongst others I can't repeat, but Julia just stands there unmoving as she recites the speech, not looking at anything in particular.

Pale faces turning crimson as they begin to get angry at her, reacting to everything she says. Then one of the protestors break free from the crowd, she pushes pass all the other angry people and climbs on the stage and charges for Julia.

"Death to the Capitol and its murderous victor!" She shouts down.

That's when Julia reacts, I've never seen someone move so effectively in a grey dress. Peacekeepers surround her immediately and pull the rebellious woman away from the stage. However, the victor stops them. Peacekeepers look at her as if she's crazy, maybe she is, but they compel to her wish.

"The easiest way to stop a problem," she says out loud to the crowd that have become silent all of a sudden. "Is to eliminate it."

Then she did something I did not expect at all, pulling a gun from one of the Peacekeepers. No one dares to stop her, the crowd looking on with surprise and shock, their faces telling of what is to come next. I know what's going to happen next.

Julia, the victor of the Eighty-first Hunger Games, takes the gun and points it at the woman. The fear on her face is evident, it's like a car crash, terrible to look at but I can't seem to tear my eyes away. Apparently, I'm not the only one as the escort and her stylist all look on. The very last moment before the victor pulls the trigger she says something, something I hope resonates for the rest of Six and its citizens.

"Rebellion will be punished."


	22. Vermilion Voltaire

_**Vermilion Voltaire, 18, District One Male**_

* * *

Vermilion Voltaire, top of his class in Beacon Academy. Excelled at all walks of life and have definitely impressed the trainers and victors, especially Balas Beacon, the man himself. The victor had eyed the boy from one of the 'lesser houses' ever since he turned twelve, four years after he was dropped off by his parents at the academy. Every ounce of their savings used for Vermilion to enter the prestigious academy.

The tuition fees were expensive, it was to ensure that no one can just join the school. Balas wanted to keep it pure and classy. It received negative press for sure, but he did not care. It was established from the start, and Flash Gladstone had agreed wholly to it. Jasper Alcott did not want to be a part of it all together.

House Voltaire made ends meet as jewellers. Unlike those from the Greater Houses, they were taxed by the Capitol. They had sought help and accepted it from anyone who had given it. They were severely in debt when they entered their eight-year-old son into Beacon.

As gratitude, Vermilion had studied hard, he did not want to disappoint his parents, as their only child. He was a smart kid, and by the time he had turned twelve he had caught the attention of Balas Beacon.

Beacon Academy had this tradition, victors and trainers would pick children of reaping age to train, in order for them to enter the Hunger Games with better odds. This was a special case, and the students would all compete with each other to earn such a calibre.

Balas Beacon were impressed by the test scores that Vermilion had presented and then he took him under his wing. In reality, Balas had wanted to do something, it was true that he was impressed, but he wanted to put something into place, to secure a back to back victory along with his other current student, Chanelle Gieves.

Vermilion became relentless when he trained under him. The meek boy became stronger, faster and smarter under Balas. He venerated him amongst the other trainees in the academy. He was well respected by his peers too, something so hard to do.

In the course of ten years, Vermilion had become an impressionable young man, filled with charisma and confidence that Balas had drilled into him. He was called down to the academy basement on his eighteenth birthday, he thought it was a surprise at first, something for a job well done.

"A final test." Balas told him as they traversed the dimly lit basement.

It felt so different, the hard grey and dull concrete contrasted everything Beacon Academy offered. It was uncharacteristically unlike the school he had attended for ten years. It was devoid of personality, he felt unsettled. The confident persona he had somewhat washed over by anxiety.

They stopped at a metal door. "You need to prove yourself to me, first."

"I thought I had already done that."

"That was merely to get you ready for this."

The door opened,the room was dimly lit until Balas had pulled on a switch right in the middle of the room. The light flashed into his eyes that made him squint. Once it had readjusted he saw that there was a figure that sat on a chair, directly underneath the lightbulb that started to crackle.

"The final test, Vermilion Voltaire, is for you to kill this man." He said it so casually, as he rounded up behind the man, he held onto his head and lifted it to make the boy see.

"Who is that?" He asked, out of all the questions that circled in his head that was the first he could come up with.

"This?" He said as he let go of the man's head. "Just someone that had betrayed the district, Mr. Percy Gellis! Would you kindly wake up for us?"

With that Balas had hit him, the old man, so hard on his stomach that he gasped for air. He looked around at first, his eyes, faded blue locked with Vermilion first.

"Help me! Help me, please!" He pleaded as he ignored Balas. "I did nothing wrong."

He was tied to a chair, and Balas smiled from behind Vermilion. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a single dagger. He moved in front of Vermilion, obscuring the older man that had fixed his attention. He placed the dagger in his hand.

"Your task." He repeated. "Is to kill this man. Once you do, then I'll know that you're worthy of volunteering for the Games."

Vermilion looked at the dagger in his hands, ornate and golden. He gulped, he had no idea what he wanted to do. He watched as his mentor had left the room, the steel door slammed shut and vibrated the room, the lightbulb swished side to side.

"Please…" Percy had said once more. "Please, spare me."

He was tied to chair; the older man could probably not even fight him if he wasn't. The stark difference in their age was evident and all Vermilion could focus on was the man's voice, it was frail and tired. He closed his eyes as he paced about the room, he tried his best to ignore the pleads as the man tied to the chair had started to cry.

"I was free…" He said suddenly that stopped Vermilion in his tracks. "I was free, I was finally enjoying the last remaining years of my life; the horrors I have done, the children I saw die year after year. I never wanted that, yet it was on my hands. You don't need to kill me."

"I-I have to." He spoke for the first time since he entered the room. "It's for _my_ family, _my_ life... _I_ need this."

"There are other ways. What are you trying to prove?"

"That I am the best of the best." He said as he gripped the dagger so tight that it turned a ghostly white. "That I _can_ do this, I _can_ kill someone."

"Please…"

Vermilion didn't say anything else as he approached the man. He needed the time to think it through at first, to finally have the conviction to kill someone. In a sense, he understood why Balas did this, he had doubts about it him even after six years training under him.

It took him long to steel himself as he raised the dagger to the older man's neck. He ignored the man as he begged for his life. He ignored the lightbulb as it fizzed and crackled above them. He had closed his eyes, stilled his breath and with one clean swipe on the neck he felt himself let go.

He backed away as he saw the man as he continued to beg, his speech gurgled with blood as it traversed down onto the concrete floor. It was like a car crash, it was terrible, but he could not look away. He had done this, and he needed to face it head on.

* * *

 _ **Vermilion Voltaire, 18, District One Male  
Twenty-first Hunger Games, Final Day**_

* * *

The Ones and Twos had allied themselves together again. It was under the behest of Chanelle Gieves and found it extremely useful. It took some convincing, Fossil and Drusus were tough nuts to crack, but with an increased chance that their tributes go home they had reluctantly agreed. They couldn't really refuse the offer as Chanelle came home, and that she and her alliance last year had made it all to the top five.

The forest scene around them calmed the storm that grew in Vermilion's mind. With four kills under his belt already, his heart had begun to grow heavy with each kill and each day he had to endure. His head replayed the very first kill he had done, the man in the basement of the academy.

He remembered it so vividly, he would dream about it almost every night since then. He stayed relatively quiet amongst the group, the Two tributes this year were rowdy and noisy, yet smart enough. His district partner, Beryl Mateus, had done all the talking, her mentor was Chanelle and she pretty much acted like her.

However, Balas Beacon had told him to focus, but he noticed the change in him since the death of Percy Gellis. He had become a recluse only spoke when spoken to and only acted when required to be. Vermilion had wondered if what he did was the right thing, but every time he saw Balas he had reassured himself that it was right. He was close to victory.

They tracked the boy from Seven around the arena, an Aaron Arbor. A tribute that was a clear favourite by the Capitol. He could not blame them. Beryl was loud and obnoxious. The Two tributes were even more so.

"Hey Ver," Beryl said as they continued to walk the forest path. "You okay?"

He nodded as he held onto his sword tight. He wasn't okay, he had an intense itch in the back of his mind that he did not understood. He knew not what it was, and he felt more scared and anxious as it grew.

"What's wrong with him this time?" The girl from Two said. "Need your mommy?"

"Ha! Right! I heard he was abandoned by his parents in front of that crappy academy." The boy continued.

"Ignore them." Beryl said, and he did.

It never bothered him that much, they tried to relieve tension through different means and unfortunately for him it was through casual bullying. He had endured it enough, but his body language seemed to display a different thing.

They had reached a clearing in the forest, the grassy floor filled with white flowers looked nice and calming. He admired it for a moment and felt the sunbeams hit him with such warmth. He was at peace in that moment.

Then from the corner of his eyes he saw the girl from Two as she drew her sword. She attacked Beryl, but she had dodged just in time. She looked at the girl with a shocked face and he could tell that she was about to blow a fuse.

"What the hell?!" She shouted at the girl who merely laughed. "This was not part of the deal!"

"I'm bored of this stupid deal." She said. "I want to break away."

"You're not breaking away until we kill that Seven boy."

"Oh yeah?" She looked at her district partner before she glared back at Beryl. "Watch me."

Her sword collided with Beryl's spear, white sparks flew from the metal as they fought for power. Beryl had trained more, and she managed to get the upper hand, but that's when the boy had decided to join in too, his sword struck the spear and it flew from her hands and onto the soft grass.

Vermilion stayed calm or tried to anyway as he saw his partner as she struggled. The Two girl had seen him, and she smirked. She headed straight for him and had tried her best with the sword in her hand, but he had blocked it with his own weapon. She smiled at him, an evil one as she pushed forward.

"I know for sure that you're the weaker one of the two." She said as she continued to push him into a tree.

The blade he held began to press into him, he tried his best to fight back, but he was getting flashback of all those he had killed, interspersed with Balas telling him to win, that he could do it. At that moment he had closed his eyes and pushed hard. It threw the Two girl off balance, she was shocked at first, but she growled as she tried to attack him again. He dodged her, and she saw the way Vermilion's eyes had darkened even more, the once green-blue colour had darkened to just green as something else took control of Vermilion's body.

He had hit her with the hilt of his sword with such force that she stumbled backwards, her nose broken and began to bleed. She looked at him, a newfound fear in her own eyes. She tried to run away, and she thought she had the chance when, but the boy had kicked her down. She fell on the forest floor, she didn't even have enough time to look up when the sword had plunged itself into her neck.

Her cannon was instant, it had distracted the other two that were fighting. The boy from Two suddenly felt disadvantaged at the sight of Beryl and Vermilion. However, he was not so sure about that, as he looked towards Vermilion's direction.

His eyes were a dilated dark green, his hands covered in the girl's blood somehow and he looked crazed and scary. Beryl had looked over to the person she had fought only moments ago and they both non-verbally agreed that they should team up.

The Two boy had moved first as he tried his best to tackle him. He sped towards him, but Vermilion had dodged out of his way. The momentum had made the boy trip on the ground. The One boy took the Two girl's sword and made his way to the boy that had crashed on the ground. He placed one boot to his back and pushed him forward.

Then Beryl watched as she saw her district partner took both the swords to the back of the boy's neck and crossed them together. The cannon too was instant as the boy's head rolled a feet or two away from his body.

Horrified, Beryl had run away. Terrified for what might happen to her; terrified of what had Vermilion become. She never looked back, but she felt someone behind her, his presence was strong. She was about to duck into the thicket, but she was tackled to the ground. The ground was wet, they were near the marsh they had passed by earlier. She felt the mud stick to her face as Vermilion had forced his hand on her head into it.

"Please. Let me go. Not like this, Vermilion." She pleaded and begged as she tried her best to wriggle herself free.

It was too late; the darkened eyes had glazed over. He was on autopilot almost; his base humanity had been taken over by nothing but animalistic tendencies. He didn't respond to her. Still, she continued to squirm herself free.

She thought she was free until she screamed loudly, so loud that it felt like it could shatter glass. She looked down, her face no longer being pushed by the boy. Her feet were detached from her body. She could no longer feel them, she could see the blood as it mixed with the brown mud.

Pain filled screams filled the arena, as the agony became unbearable. She tried to crawl away from the boy, who had stood up now. His eyes still looked the same. She looked at him one last time, as she groaned and moaned in pain. She felt more pain blossom when he had stepped on her back, and then a sharp pain as she closed her eyes.

When she had opened them, she saw that her hands too were detached from their arms. Another scream that filled the arena. She wanted to die, she had nothing, she laid in a pool of her own blood as Vermilion walked away from her body.

* * *

 _ **Balas Beacon  
Victor of the Second Hunger Games  
Mentor Centre**_

* * *

"What did you do to him!?"

Chanelle Gieves ranted and raved over him as they stood in an empty room in the building. She had dragged him into the room and slapped him across the face. It stung with the cool, air-conditioned air, it threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he did not care.

"I wanted to see if he had conviction to kill."

"It looked like you did more than that." She said as she narrowed her eyes. "Beryl did not deserve that."

"Beryl was from some stupid family, not even a lesser house."

"Fuck your twisted house and caste system!" She shouted. "Lesser or Greater. She. Did. Not. Deserve. That!"

She poked and prodded the older mentor with each word. They had both sat in that room as they watched as Beryl bled to death, Vermilion already so far away from her, his sword mingled with the blood of the three he had killed in the span of twenty minutes.

Drusus and Fossil looked at Balas with such contempt that it could put Leroy Ramnes to shame if he had been there. Still he did not care, that was when Chanelle had dragged him into this room. He just stayed silent as Chanelle stared him down some more.

When she was sure she was finished staring at his disgusting face, she had shoved him into the wall and left the room. He stayed in the room for a while, stunned, mainly from the slap and the words that Chanelle had said to him. He knew that Vermilion was going to win.

That Seven boy would stand no chance to the monster he had created. The person he would have to take responsibility for the moment he would come out of that arena. He looked at himself through the reflection on the blank television screen, a handprint clear on the side of his face.

He sighed as he turned on the screen, just in time to watch his tribute as he drove the sword through the Seven boy's skull. From the front of his face all the way to the back, no remorse on Vermilion's face whatsoever.

As the fanfare blared on the screen, all Balas could think of was how his personal agenda had gone too far this time. How much repercussion he would have to handle when he returns back home.

"Vermilion Voltaire was a mistake."

* * *

 **A/N - So the Third Decade has begun, Vermilion is one of the favourites I have created from One, so far. If you're reading this, I don't normally put author's notes, but I'm here to advertise my SYOT. I need more characters so submit soon! Thanks**

 **~Alec**


	23. Esme Tripoline

_**Seven times Esme Tripoline experienced such intense emotions**_

* * *

 _ **Number One**_

It was the night before the Reapings, the waxing moon has never looked so big in her eyes. A gentle breeze hit her face and ruffles her black hair slightly. She tucks the loose hair behind her ear as she waits for someone.

For now, she's alone, within the confines of the currently unused Victor's Village. The soothing sounds of the fountain in which she sat on was all she could hear as she waited for this person. It's true that curfews have been enforced as of late, and it's true that she is technically trespassing on grounds she does not belong to, but she did not care.

She was waiting for him, she saw a mysterious shadowy figure come to light from the lampposts that scattered the walkways of the village. The light revealed his face, strong jawed and fair. His eyes almost glisten a hazy light blue with the lights.

She sighed, as the pit of her stomach suddenly ached. Butterflies fluttered and danced within it, her hands, she felt began to produce sweat. She wasn't going to enjoy this, not one bit. Her nervousness was more evident when she saw his face fully, battered and bruised from his father.

"Hey." He said as he swiped the loose blond hair from his face up. "Interesting place to meet up."

"Yeah." She said as she looked away, only for him to take her face into his hand and turned her to face him.

"What's wrong, Es?"

The nickname stung a little. She loved that nickname. Armin Sericus sat there as he watched Esme, she was having an internal struggle. She fiddled with her hands, she always had done it whenever she was nervous. She looked away once more, at one of the brick houses, vines grew from the ground and nearing the windows already.

"I…" She started. "Armin, we need to break up."

The gentle breeze seemed to stop when those words left her mouth. It was like the world had ended for one of them, and it wasn't Esme as she furrowed her eyebrows at her now ex-boyfriend. He looked hurt, she wanted to say something else, but he just nodded his head and left. There was a time where she hated crying, but as of late her tears have started to fall.

She truly loved him, but the pressures her parents have become a burden on the family. She barely saw her father and mother, both worked long hours of the days. She needed to start work soon too, or else they would be in trouble. She had taken too many tesserae too, enough to think she would be reaped tomorrow.

Armin would come to a realisation that he was better off without her, because she didn't want him to see her as she stood on that stage at the Reapings. As tears streaked down her face.

* * *

 _ **Number Two**_

The next time she felt such anxiousness was when she waited for her name to be called out on the third day of training. The hall they were in have quietened down, the rambunctious Two and One tributes had come and gone.

She really hated the way they treated other tributes lately, some have become quite despicable, and that didn't help how nervous she felt. She had spent the last three days throwing knives at a target and having that girl from One laugh at her face every time she had failed.

She eventually deviated from the thrown knives and practiced with the dagger too, but she was never going to be an expert on it. None of the last three days had truly helped her in anyway other than build up her anxiety. She worried for her allies.

Her district partner, Mirko Alba, had already left for his session. She was alone in the room they were all located in. It was quiet, a few of the tributes murmured with each other, but for the most part the room was silent.

Mirko was not her only ally, they had somehow recruited the Seven boy, Jethro, and the rebel girl from Six, Talin Boyce. Talin was the only one she was not excited about. Her fears of them allying with a rebel daughter had already circulated around the tributes as well as the Capitol itself.

She was nervous that her score might be marked differently because she had allied with someone that could pose to be rebellious. However, her fears and anxiousness would soon later dissolve as she had received a score of '6' and her allies all scored a '7'.

* * *

 _ **Number Three**_

It was the start of the Games, the so called 'Cornucopia Bloodbath'. Twenty-four tributes have risen from the earth and are now stood around a golden horn. Esme eyed it with curiosity and nervousness.

It only grew bigger when she found out that all her allies were across from her, on the other side of the horn. She barely saw Jethro and Mirko, but she saw Talin and she nodded towards her. She nodded back, unsure of what was about to happen next.

The countdown had started, her heart pumped faster and faster with each countdown. Her eyes focused on one of the items laid out in front of her. The forest trees that surrounded them cared not for what had happened next.

The gong had rung, and she ran up to the middle just as fast. She looked around at the chaos, blood splattered the golden horn beside her, tributes screamed and shouted, war cries and the sound of metal clashing against each other flooded her senses.

She had made it to the middle and had ducked out of the way from a wayward knife. She hurriedly took some knives for her own and began her escape out of the chaos. She had collided with Talin and she had pulled her out of the middle where Jethro and Mirko awaited them.

Her body raced with adrenaline, her anxiety flared up. She shook for what the entirety of the day after that. Her allies, even if they noticed, had said nothing as she cried herself to sleep that night. She wasn't sure why she had cried, but all she cared about was that she was safe.

* * *

 _ **Number Four**_

They had escaped the bloodbath, they had survived until the last day of the Games. The tension had risen tenfold at this point. Esme could not fathom how she was alive at this point. She felt nervous as she sat beside a great tree, the heat in the arena had been too much as of late, like a furnace.

They had lost Mirko yesterday, he had revealed that his leg was cut during the Bloodbath. He had only revealed it to them now, his camouflage trousers hid his cut very well, but it soon became too unbearable to walk.

He had collapsed as they moved between the trees, the heat rose up after a cold night. It had been rising since the first day. Talin surmised that the wound was infected, she had learned what to look for during training, she had also said that the infection worsened because of the heat and the bacteria in the forest.

Mirko smiled, he had cried for a little bit as he said goodbye to them all. He told them to leave him, and Esme protested. He shook his head, it was too late for him and they all knew it, even if they denied it. He died later that day, Esme had left him under Talin's behest.

The cannons play a sort of psychological warfare in her mind. It reminded her that she was so close to the end, her allies too were dying one by one. She flinched as she remembered Jethro's cannon from earlier.

Jethro had lost his footing as he climbed a tree, the forest had branched all interspersed with each tree that it was easy enough for someone that was good at climbing trees to jump to. Esme had no such advantage and therefore stayed on the ground with Talin. That's when they saw them, the Two tributes first.

Jethro had shouted to run, and Jethro stayed up the tree as they all ran away from the group, now joined by the One tributes. It was just unfortunate that Jethro, a boy from Seven, who were famed for their tree climbing, had lost his footing in a panic, fell and snapped his neck.

Esme flinched at the cannon sound as it replayed in her head. They had lost the killer tributes, for now. As they rest near a big tree. Talin was on lookout duty, she had counted the cannons after Jethro's, three more sounded after his.

"We're the last three in the arena." She said as she came back to sit opposite Esme. "You, me and whoever was in that group of tributes."

She looked away, her heartbeat quickened again as she. Her breath began to hitch at the thought that she might die today. The heat didn't help, but what they have noticed that it started to rain around midday, and as a few droplets have started Talin began to move again.

"We're better to keep moving." She said, and Esme held onto her dagger a little bit closer as she nodded.

They were on the move, the Six and Eight girls, under the cover of the rain. Their footfall covered by the noise of the rain. The hot water from the heavens hits their faces. Esme had only experienced colder rainfall, the type that she would stay out for, stinging a little from the industrial and chemical properties, but it still felt amazing. Nothing like the hot and murky water in this arena.

Then she screamed as loud as she can, she looked to her side just in time as she saw the girl from One, her bloody sword being washed away by the rain. She managed to feel the side of her stomach to feel warm blood along with the rain.

She flinched as the pain blossomed from her side, she was about to scream again when Talin had countered the One girl with her own sword. She stumbled backwards as she watched her only ally fight the girl from One.

She held onto her knives shakily, she tried her best to aim for the enemy, but the pain by her stomach felt too severe for her to do anything. When she heard the cannon a few minutes later and saw that Talin had fallen she ran.

She ran as fast as she could through the murky waters and muddy grounds; through gnarled roots and mossy rocks. Her heart beat faster than she ever thought possible. She looked back to see that the One girl had not followed her, so she stopped. Her only weapon she had left were two knives and the dagger; the bag she had was gone, lost through the panic.

Esme rested by another tree, the rain had made everything slippery and she did not want to end up with a twisted ankle, or worse. The brief look of horror she had when she saw Jethro as he fell to his death made her shudder.

After a few hours, under the relentless rain she stood up. A renewed determination in herself as she went back to look for the girl from One. Esme just had to kill her to get home. She was going to do it, or she will literally die trying.

As her mud stained boots squelched on the mud she encountered the girl from One. She looked tired and crazy eyed. She attacked first, a sword sliced across Esme's arm and the girl dropped the throwing knives she held in her hand.

She could hear the girl laugh at her. "Looked like nothing had changed since training then."

She moved faster now, a lot faster but under the severe rainfall and the slippery mud, the girl had slipped. She stumbled forward, the sword flew off her hands and the blonde girl with blue eyes were covered in mud.

In an instant, Esme rushed to her, pulled her dagger. She said a few words to herself before she plunged the plain steel dagger into the girl's back. She did it so many times, anger and frustration mixed with sadness and relief as she wailed until she heard the cannon.

She was free.

* * *

 _ **Number Five**_

She had stepped off the train in her white summer dress. She had her hair let down, after her stylist had played about with it so much before she left the Capitol. She had felt nervous in the Capitol, but that was nothing in comparison to what she felt now.

She looked out the window in the dining cart, she never truly appreciated the way the train travelled through districts and whatever was outside. Lakesides, forests, mountains and whatever else. It had calmed her somewhat, but it was still in the back of her mind.

She had no idea how her family was going to react to her. She was told by Phineus that she had only killed one person in the arena, the least out of all the victors so far. She didn't quite know how to take that, but she liked that.

The only demons that haunted her were her allies' faces. Jethro's eyes as he fell from the tree, her face stuck in a permanent shock at falling down a tree. Talin's fierceness and determination before she was struck down by her killer. Finally, Mirko's dying words to her, for her to win before he had closed his eyes, hurt behind his mask.

She had killed one person, but she had done it so brutally that she did not know if her family would accept her for that. She closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to quiet the demons in her head.

* * *

She hadn't realised that they had arrived, but she was woken up by Mary Fetzener. The old woman was happy to leave the clutches of the Capitol now, to live her life the way she wanted to. She was happy for her, but at the same time jealous that she was free, and Esme was not.

They both stepped off the train, her nervousness faded into shock as a crowd had gathered at the station. Nearly everyone she knew or had ever met came to congratulate her. Tears had formed in her eyes as she stood there and watched all the people that supported her.

"Your family is waiting at home."

A hand had placed itself on her shoulder. She looked behind her and smiled at the escort, Gabriel Grader. He directed her through the crowd as they all spoke to her, too much even for her to actually listen to. She thanked everyone that she passed, until they made it out of the station and into the familiar pathway up to the Victor's Village.

She remembered the night before the Reapings, how she had stayed up late that night just so she can break someone's heart. She looked around the village, the fountain was operational and she smiled as her family appeared from the corner of her eyes.

"We have always believed in you." Her mother, Chantilly, said.

"We knew you would come home." Her father, Ferrand, said as he hugged her. "Welcome home, Esme."

* * *

 _ **Number Six**_

She didn't know how to deal with it at first.

Her heart beat like crazy as her tributes rose from the platform for the Twenty-third Hunger Games. She watched with such anguish and anxiety as both of them had been crushed under the duo that was the district One pair.

She didn't leave her room until the Games were over. She was too nervous to face the public, she was sure one of them would get out, but she still felt nervous talking about them in front of cameras and interviews.

Esme didn't want to share their stories to the media, she wanted to keep them to herself.

* * *

 _ **Number Seven**_

The Seventy-fifth Hunger Games shook her world.

She was at her home, in the Victor's Village, alone. She had told her family to leave her alone as she wanted to mourn the loss of her fellow victors, some of them she called family too, and others great friends.

There was a time where she felt nervous all the time, but as she progressed and grew as a person, she replaced those feelings with determination. She converted her anxiety for strength. She tried her best, the best that she could under any circumstances.

She didn't know that she would be faced with someone, dressed in all black. A mask to cover their faces, anonymous even if Esme didn't care what they looked like. She just smirked as she held onto a kitchen knife.

She would have run away, or cried back when she was younger, but now, if she was going to die today then she won't just die quietly. She would avenge her fellow victors that were trying to fight for their lives.

She was the instigator, the one that the people have said started the Second Rebellion. Whispers in the districts said it was Six and Eight that had done it again, but no one really believed it. It was just rumours, but clearly President Snow never liked rumours. He would rather have nipped it in the bud before it escalated, but little did he know that she was several steps ahead.

"Goodbye…" She gripped the knife, the sentiment said to no one in particular.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
District Six  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 10**_

* * *

There're riots outside now. Several more gunshots fire at the crowd until it quietens down. I try my best not to look out the window, but there are times when my eyes flash to the clear glass to see a Peacekeeper shoot at a citizen carrying some sort of brick.

My eyes widen and my heart beats crazily as it's thrown at the Peacekeeper, only for the assailant to shoot them back. It's crazy out there, the woman that had interrupted the earlier speech, is still there, well, her body is still there lying.

"This is not what we agreed to!" I could hear Candice Ganlon, the escort, shout as she paces on the red carpeted floor of the Justice Building. "You couldn't just say the speech, ignore that lady, and let the Peacekeepers handle it!?"

She didn't really say that to anyone in particular, more of a thought as she panics about the hallway of the building. I'm still shaken up as I watch Julia sit in the corner, without a care in the world. Her eyes look remorseful, but she sits resolute. Blood stains her dress from when that rebel got shot.

I watch Canidce again, she's at a lost for words, she looks at everyone in her team; me, the stylist, the Peacekeepers, and then at Julia, but she's coming up with nothing. I walk over to her, hold her at either sides as I look into her yellow eyes.

"I think you need to calm down." I tell her.

She explodes at me. "Calm down!? Calm!? Down!? I don't know if you have noticed, Mr. Cait, but this whole Victory Tour had been derailed, thanks to a certain _someone._ "

She storms off into one of the rooms, maybe to calm herself first before she thinks of a proper plan. I don't know. All I do know is that we are all going to be late by a day or two until. We won't be going anytime soon, to continue with this Victory Tour.

My sighs escape my lips as I wish for Lincoln to be here. I hope he's okay, the commotion is dying down now, at least, but I hope he doesn't involve himself in this. There's always a sense of justice within him that I admire the most, the sweetness and whatever is close one too, but his devotion to the people is what I liked the most.

There's a Peacekeeper that walks in through the front door of the building sand Julia walks towards him, dignified and professional. The Peacekeeper speaks to her and she nods her head. She looks at me and then her stylist.

"We're free to go." She says, then looks at her stylist. "Get Candice, we're going today."

As we exit the building, we see the bodies of those that instigated the riots. All of them in their own pool of blood. I shiver as I see their eyes, wide and open. No signs of life in them all. The Peacekeeper tries his best to block my view, but it's too late.

"Why did you do it?" Candice asks from the back, the question aimed at Julia.

"As the new Head Peacekeeper of Panem, the President had given me a pardon." She replies, Candice just storms ahead, frustrated with the answer, a few Peacekeepers following her.

I don't know how well I'm going to take the next few days now. I could potentially have been those bodies have she known what I have been doing. My fears begin to rise as we walk back to the train station, past the several other bodies amongst the cracked infrastructure and buildings.

What have I gotten myself into?


	24. Pyrite Villiers

Pyrite Villiers. Extraordinarily normal since the day he was born. That all changed, of course, since winning the Hunger Games. He became a changed man, no longer was he the boy that had refused admission into Beacon Academy, not because he was too good for it, but because he could not afford the tuition fees; now changed into one amazing person.

Even though he was part of the Thirteen Great Houses of District One, they were the bottom of the barrel. Most of the other families, like the Buchannan's who owned several mines in various villages or the Virgos' who manufactured wine, were far wealthier than them. They were on the cusp of the Great Houses claim to fame.

Nevertheless, their one mine that his father, Pliny, owned was the only one to ever produce gold nuggets. By the time the Great Houses had assembled after the Dark Days, the Villiers were discounted, but they made a name for themselves with their export of gold.

Pyrite worked in this mine, from a young age. He was invited to join the academy when he was ten, but he refused. Mostly due to the tuition, but partly due to the fact that his mother had died a year prior.

He had received counselling through this, mainly through his big sister, Steatite, but even then, it helped very little. His friends had coaxed him out of the mine a few times, but he would always return, and joined the other labourers in his pursuit to find meaning.

He was one of those boys that grew up hard-headed. He went through his whole childhood paying no heed to his social status, or his family's reputation. He would always get invited from reaping age onwards by Balas Beacon and his answers would always be the same.

"No." He said at the age of eighteen, the sound of the pickaxe hit the rock to reveal nothing.

"This is your last opportunity, restore the name of Villiers." The man said as he followed the boy outside the mines.

"Look," he said. "I know you mean well, but I don't care about my family's status."

"Sure, but wouldn't a little bit more money helps your situation?" He asked him, but before the boy could answer, he left.

It took him four months of back and forth between Balas until he even considered the Hunger Games. Then another week of Chanelle saying that she would be the one to mentor him. They wore him down, eventually, and he was given a whistle-stop tour of training, like a montage in a film.

He trained for a month and then volunteered for the Games after that, the rest were history. A score of ten from the Gamemakers, an arena made mostly of rocky terrain. He was the strongest tribute out of the bunch, the Twos had dwindled under him, and his kills racked up faster than the previous couple of Hunger Games.

He was ashamed of those he had killed, he had spent the rest of his time mainly in his home in the Victor's Village, or down in his father's mine in the Yellow Village after it. He would not start teaching in Beacon Academy until his nephew, Gypsum, was born.

And thus, this story takes a different turn. It was a story not about Pyrite, but of the purpose he had found the day his nephew turned twelve. The way he found something he could do, a meaning in life at the point.

* * *

 _ **Pyrite Villier's time training his nephew at Beacon Academy and through victory**_

* * *

"You need to train him, Py." Steatite said as she followed her brother from the lounge into the kitchen.

He took a big gulp of water before he looked at his sister. "No, there's no need to worry about him, Stea."

"The Reapings, I don't want Gypsum being reaped. I don't want him to be reaped and not have the same chances you did."

She was considerably worried for her son. Gypsum had lived a comfortable life. He lived within the boulevard of Great Houses, along with Steatite and her husband. Pliny, their father, also lived with them as the lord of the house.

Gypsum, therefore, had no drive in him to actually do anything with his life. He was applied to Beacon Academy when he turned six, but he was an above average student at best. His mother had every right to worry for her son. They may live a comfortable lifestyle, they're not exempt from Capitol law and Reapings.

"You need to help him." She pleaded. "My husband agreed to it already, and I don't want no for an answer. He needs this."

In truth, Pyrite never really thought much about his nephew. He was thirty-seven now and had never married, he had the same fears that his sister has, but he would never readily admit that to his sister. He was scared that his kids would one day volunteer for the glory that Beacon Academy taught.

He didn't believe what he was teaching most of the times back in the academy, but he believed that his students would do great things for the district and not the Games. He called the ones that do volunteer for the Games, stupid, much like he was back in the day.

His father's last coherent words for him, before he had developed early onset dementia, was to help the district, and therefore he volunteered himself, once more, to the academy as his father's behest. That's how he's stuck between the mine and the academy.

His sister wanted him to train her son and so here he was stuck between the mine, to continue his father's legacy to the district and teaching in Beacon. He taught classes only and would occasionally have a protégé with him, before he pawned them off to the younger victors and trainers.

However, he was stuck with Gypsum as soon as he entered Beacon that morning he spoke with his sister, or rather when she forced him towards her. He had agreed, reluctantly, but he did not anticipate it would happen immediately.

"Are you ready for the next six years of your life under my wing?" He asked his nephew, who only sighed as the twelve-year-old left without a word.

The older man just sighed too as he followed the boy into the first class, which happened to be the one he was teaching that morning.

* * *

The next couple of weeks went by as smoothly as he thought it might. He took Gypsum back to the Victor's Village and trained him in various weapons. It took a week of frustrated sighs and a few bruises before Gypsum took it seriously. He was fed up of always losing to him, and by the end of the Reapings he was somewhat competent with the spear.

On his return to the school, a nice summer morning, he came second in the yearly competition in his age group. Pyrite watched his nephew as he brewed in his own anger, at losing firstly, but also frustrated that he made tiny mistakes.

Pyrite smirked at that point, he had the boy hooked. He wanted to soon pawn him off so he could go back to working in the mines, but he had his sister's voice in his head to protect him. He frowned as the boy approached him. Gypsum eyed him suspiciously before he took his bag and got dressed for the rest of school.

* * *

Over the next couple of years, Pyrite watched Gypsum as he grew smarter, test scores well above average as well as stronger. He had won most of the competition from his first loss. He had admitted to his uncle that he never wanted to feel that way again, when someone looked down on you, for coming second. It's a good mindset, coming second in the Hunger Games will still get you killed.

"Be careful, you're being too arrogant," he said to his nephew, sixteen years old now, as he passed the boy some water. "Let's stop for the day."

Pyrite, although hesitant at first, had grown attached to his nephew. He had never wanted for him to become such a great man, he almost felt like Gypsum was his son; he knew it was not true, but Gypsum too had come to treat him more of a father figure than his own father ever did.

"Let's take a break for the day."

"No." He said and Pyrite raised an eyebrow at the boy.

He would have never imagined that the same person in front of him four years ago would never have batted an eyelid at training. He would have sulked for several minutes before he would do it. Now the blonde-haired kid wanted to fight, and train.

"Okay then." He said as he picked up a wooden sword. "Hit me."

"What?" The boy was confused, he had never sparred seriously with his uncle before.

"Hit me." He repeated. "If you do manage to hit me, then we can continue to train all day, but if you fail in the next hour, then we're taking a break, and going to the Great Houses' annual party."

"You know, Uncle Pyrite, you shouldn't give me motivation not to go to that stupid party."

He struck first, his own wooden sword collided with Pyrite's, the sound of wood as it hit wood echoed in the backyard of the victor's home. Gypsum tried to tackle forward, but Pyrite just twisted the sword and used the momentum to push the boy away.

With great force, Gypsum crashed onto the red punchbag in the corner of the garden, a smile on his face. Pyrite cracked a smirk too and they began to get serious. Gypsum picked up his sword and they continued to fight, each time Gypsum would get an upper hand Pyrite would always be there to knock him down.

An hour passed by, and now Gypsum was using the shower to get ready for the party. Pyrite tidied up the backyard, the smile on his face could not be wiped off. He felt so proud of how far his nephew had gotten in the last four years.

* * *

The next two years breezed by for the two of them. A heavy routine of training and studying, as well as the occasional lazy mornings and afternoons was what comprised of their days spent together. Pyrite had watched Gypsum develop into a fine boy; had watched him develop friendships in the academy as well as form bond and relationships.

He watched him get into fights too, some that he had stopped personally. Told his nephew to cool off or leave the classroom or training hall. The boy never stayed angry at his uncle, even though most of the time he wasn't at fault.

Then came the time, when Gypsum had stated that he wanted to volunteer. Pyrite fell silent, he wanted to change his mind, but the boy was as hardy as he was at the age. Whereas Balas tried to convince him to volunteer for the Games, Pyrite tried his best to put the boy off it.

Gypsum did not budge from his statement. Pyrite had reluctantly agreed to it, his sister had shouted at him the whole day, wrecked his lounge too, but she knew that it was bound to happen. She tried to avoid the scenario all together, but she was never going to convince her son. She was proud of him too and she would support the boy.

"I'll be your mentor," Pyrite said. "It'll be better, I've been your mentor for six years now anyway."

"What about the female volunteer?" Gypsum asked him.

Guinevere Graff was a legacy student, much like Gypsum was and the academy had not anticipated such a result. Balas himself avoided legacy students from volunteering for the same Games, and he had kept it like that for a while until this particular Hunger Games.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes." Pyrite whispered to him as they boarded the train to the Capitol.

* * *

Guinevere's mentor, Chanelle Gieves; a graduate and close friend of Pyrite. She was the one that helped Pyrite through the aftermath of his Games. She mentored him too, but as soon as they entered that train to the Capitol along with Gypsum and Guinevere, their friendship took a momentary break. The two formed an unhealthy rivalry and pitted their tributes together. Gypsum and Guinevere rolled their eyes at their competitiveness.

Whilst their tributes were off training, Pyrite and Chanelle competed to see who would get the most sponsors for their tributes. They employed anything and everything to get what they wanted. The Careers this year were strong too, and that helped them get the sponsors the required.

"I managed to get four more people to sponsor our tributes." Pyrite bragged on the elevator up their floor.

"Ten." She smirked when the elevator doors slid open into their living quarters. "You need to step up your game, Villiers."

He couldn't help but scrunched his fists as they turned a ghostly white. Oh how he hated that smirk on her face. She only got those ten because of Chanelle's tactics. He distinctly remembered that time they were in Club Valentino's, how Pyrite talked to potential sponsors, and was about to secure a deal when out of nowhere Chanelle popped up to steal the spotlight.

He didn't want to argue with her in public, it reflected badly on their tributes so he had taken it in stride whenever she stole potential sponsors for Gypsum. He seemed to always be one step behind the Gieves girl.

"I hear that Gypsum lost another sparring match."

Pyrite's hands turn a ghostly white again as he gripped his cutlery tight. He gritted his teeth as he cut a piece of steak and brought it to his mouth. He won't play into her hands, but it does grind him the wrong way. Gypsum stayed quiet, he looked towards Guinevere firstly before he looked at his uncle.

"What does that say about our careers, hm?" She said as she sipped a bit of wine.

"It says we're human." Pyrite said as he sipped his own drink, wiped his face with a napkin and left the dinner table.

Gypsum watched as his mentor left to go into his room. He saw that even Guinevere was tired of the constant fighting their mentors have been doing since the Games have started. She sighed as she made her way into her own room.

"Why don't we all just get along?" Gypsum asked Chanelle.

"You got to play the game, Gypsum, there are no friends here."

* * *

"Fuck!" A chair smashed against the pristine white wall as Brasidas Clovenstone marched his way towards Ahab Seafom. "What. The. Fuck?!"

Pyrite watched with one eye, as he saw the Two victor as he began to shout and scream at ahab. The victor from Four paid no mind even after when the Peacekeeper came and pulled the boy out of the room. No one else even came to help the commotion.

"You'll pay for this!" Brasidas spat as he left the room with the Peacekeepers.

Chanelle sighed as she looked back into the screen. The Career pack broke immediately at the Bloodbath, due to Ahab's tribute, the unstable Four boy killed the Two girl there and then at the sound of the gong. Chanelle didn't calculate that when she was making offhanded comments about Gypsum.

Now they watched both their tributes as they stuck together in the arena, the beachside resort that was the arena was well suited for the Four tributes and that seemed to be the case as both the Four tributes wiped the floor of the tributes during the Bloodbath.

"Our tributes would need to work together." Chanelle offered as they took a small break from watching their tributes.

"Yeah? Truce?" Pyrite said.

"Yeah, let's pool our resources so we can get them each a sword."

That night, they had sponsored both their tributes a sword each, both of them abandoned their makeshift weapons. They rested in one of the rooms inside the resort, they talked about what they would do when they get out of the arena.

* * *

Pyrite had been on edge since the start of the Games. He trusted the truce with Chanelle, but he didn't truly believe that it would last long enough. Gypsum and Guinevere tore through the arena like fire. They killed only when necessary and they never hunted tributes, most of them they encountered anyway, and by the final day they had killed five each.

Gypsum had come close to death on multiple occasions too, the Four boy had killed his partner on the second day and he had hunted the One pair almost exclusively. Every time they encountered him they would run away, they're smart enough to notice that the fight will end up with one of them dead.

It was the sixth day and Pyrite had figured out what the gimmick of the arena was. The water levels had started rising by the end of the third day, and it had continued to rise ever since. They flooded the Cornucopia and most of everything else. The beachfront resort area had completely flooded by the end of the fourth day.

Gypsum and Guinevere were holed up at the top of the only hotel, the only remaining building not drowned by the water levels. None of them could swim very well and they were scared that the Four boy lurked in the waters like a shark.

* * *

The sun was high up. Gypsum looked at the horizon, everything was filled with water. His sword by his side and glinted with the hot sun. He then felt sharp scratch behind him. He turned around almost instantly, Guinevere smirked.

"What the fuck, Chanelle?" Pyrite asked his co-mentor.

"Truce over, I sent a note last night." She said as she looked at the screen.

"Whatever." Pyrite sighed as he watched swords clashed with swords.

"Although she must've changed her mind about killing Gypsum during the night."

Pyrite ignored her as he watched his nephew clash with the girl. He admitted that she was stronger than he was, but Gypsum is smarter. So when he ran away from the killing blow, Pyrite trusted his decision.

However, he hadn't thought that the boy from Four would come up the same stairwell. They started to fight too, his sword clashed with the trident. The water rose up to their knees, making it hard for either of them to move.

The trident slipped from the Four boy's hands, and Gypsum took that as an opportunity and went for the kill. He used his steel sword and stabbed the boy straight through the chest. The cannon reverberated through his head.

He was nervous now, Pyrite, for his nephew. Gypsum too looked nervous as he ascended back from the cold water rising up. Back to the top of the hotel, making sure to pick up the trident along the way. Gypsum saw Guinevere, she had her back turned as she looked out the horizon.

Chanelle smiled, and Pyrite raised his eyebrows at her. She thought that it was her win, but that fight with the Four boy had only made Gypsum's resolve stronger. Made him tougher. Chanelle would not be leaving the mentor centre with a smirk on her face.

Guinevere nodded at her partner, and Gypsum nodded too. They acknowledged each other before they clashed. Sword dodged by one and then the other, sparks flew as they glided together. Pyrite sat at the edge of his seat, and he saw that Chanelle was too.

Then he burst in celebration when the boy struck the girl by her side, but Chanelle smirked. This was far from over. Guinevere sliced open Gypsum's leg with a hidden dagger and both of the tributes collapsed in exhaustion and pain.

As they collapsed to the floor, they felt the water. It was rising still, and if they don't do anything they'll end up fighting in the water. The sun still felt hot underneath it's rays. Gypsum used his sword as support as he stood up.

Guinevere used her sword too, but she did not account for the trident as Gypsum used it to jab the girl. He got her side once more and he used that momentum with his sword. The steel weapon engraved itself into her chest.

It was over.

"I'm sorry." Gypsum said, but Guinevere just smiled.

"It's okay." She said as she closed her eyes. "I was glad it was you."

They both collapsed into the water, only this time one of them was dead and the other alive. He laid beside her as he looked into the cloudless blue sky. Water going through his blonde hair and into his ears.

Back in the mentor room, Pyrite celebrated like a madman. Gypsum was his first and only successful tribute, and he was glad it was his blood relative. Chanelle came up to him and hugged him, she clapped him on the back.

"Congratulations." She bowed graciously. "Our friendship is now back on again."

"I'm sorry about the heated arguments we did." He apologised.

"Yeah, me too." She said.

"We should never mentor when the other is mentoring."

"Agreed"

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train to Five  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 10**_

* * *

We're on the train to Five, but the tension is so high. We all sit in silence in the dining kart. Tea in front of all of us. Only Julia is drinking whilst Candice types into her pad, updating the Capitol of the little excursion we had in Six.

There's a lonely feeling in my heart as Lincoln is far behind me back in Six. I'm scared for him now that Six has become a shambles. I look at Julia and she gives me a curt smile before sipping from her cup.

The silence is too much. She almost scares me now, almost. I have met the most terrifying of people back in the club. Even when his dad has owned the club, he's met victors and important people that's far more intimidating than her.

Let's just hope that there's no more _excursions_ on the way to Five or inside Five.


	25. Dashiell Stoppard

_**Log 1: July 15th 2XXX  
Subject: Dashiell Stoppard**_

I've had many experiences with new victors, and my current patient, Dashiell Stoppard, is much the same as the rest of them. Sustained injuries from the arena, dealt by the District One Male in the arena. Wound cutting through the left shoulder as well as a large incision in his left thigh. Superficial at best, nothing major. No great deal of blood loss from the arena.

 _Observations on first visit to patient: hypertensive – 150/80; tachycardic – 110; oxygen saturations – 98% on 2 litres of oxygen therapy; respiration rate – 20; temperature – 36.5 degrees. Clinically well, no pain and discomfort found; wound dressings intact; no blood noted; ongoing analgesia infusion – morphling at 5mg per two hours._

 _Plan: Change dose of morphling to compensate for wound pain; aim to regain consciousness._

Mr. Stoppard is alone in his room, no sign of mentor. Will notify nurses to contact me if there are any changes.

~Dr. Eir Hepius, Consultant.

* * *

 _ **Log 2: July 17th 2XXX  
Subject: Dashiell Stoppard**_

Two days after being alerted that Mr. Stoppard has awoken, I come into the room. The newest victor is sitting awake. Noted food tray by bedside remains untouched. The patient is displaying vacant episodes, or just dazed and tired from recovery? Will continue to monitor.

Questions such as date and time, as well as location is often jumbled by patient. Disorientated at times, also. I attribute this to the increase of analgesia. Patient has expressed localised pain around bandaged shoulder, have reassured patient that it is normal, he seems content with this at present.

 _Latest set of observations: normotensive – 110/65; tachycardic – 94; oxygen saturations – 96% on 1 litre of oxygen therapy; respiration rate – 15; temperature – 36.4 degrees. Clinically well, if not confused and disorientated; I would attribute this to tiredness and stress from the arena. Dressings to shoulder and leg are intact, changed daily by nursing staff, have not seen wounds today, but is healing; ongoing analgesia infusion – morphling at 10mg per two hours._

 _Plan: Physiotherapy when able; encourage dietary intake; daily dressing checks; wean off oxygen; change morphling from infusion to tablet form; can go to the crowning ceremony when able._

Will see patient prior to the ceremony crowning. I am happy to report that Mr. Stoppard is improving at a good pace from his injuries. No such experiences yet from the arena, although I do not suspect that it will one day come. Continue to monitor whilst in the Capitol.

~Dr. Eir Hepius, Consultant.

* * *

 _ **Log 3: July 20th 2XXX  
Subject: Dashiell Stoppard**_

Crowning ceremony was a success. Patient on television did not seem too distressed and looked comfortable, but upon entering the unit, nursing staff had told myself that Mr. Stoppard had been awake all night and had been causing a racket in his room.

Mr. Stoppard was sitting on his bed, knees up to his head, face buried on his knees. Today is his discharge date, but I seem to have calculated wrongly. Mr. Stoppard is not yet ready to face the outside world.

Mr. Stoppard has expressed nightmares have started every night after the crowning ceremony. He had 'trashed' his room every time it has happened followed by an intense searing pain from his shoulder. I have asked about the nightmares, and all he could divulge were the final moments of the Hunger Games; where the District One Male had injured his shoulder with the sword; the trauma of the pain as well as his eventual resolve to murder the One Male has contributed to the nightmare. The pain expressed was new and have also stated that he is suffering from insomnia after the first nightmare.

 _Observations: Unable to correctly gather; wound dressing is now removed; scar has healed completely and no sign of inflammation anymore; unable to persuade to take vital signs; visibly tired today._

 _Plan: Discharge; once off stronger analgesia Diamorphling before discharge; start on sleeping tablets to help with insomnia; review after Victory Tour; morphling dose change from 10mg twice daily to 5mg twice a day._

Patient has been grateful for the help given and apologised for the room. Reassured patient that it is quite alright. I have wished him a good life and that he takes good care of himself when he returns to District Six.

~Dr. Eir Hepius, Consultant

* * *

 _ **Log 4: January 15th 2XXX**_

Victory Tour is over. Patient, Dashiell Stoppard looks well. Patient has expressed that the nightmares continued since discharge and subsequently the insomnia too. Patient too afraid of taking sleeping tablets due to the nightmares. Continues to take analgesia twice a day.

I attribute this to arena experience likely brought upon by the Victory Tour. Studies have shown that victors during their Victory Tour is when they are at their most vulnerable. Some take it better than others; examples include Leroy Ramnes and Balas Beacon, but others such as Mr. Stoppard takes it the hardest.

Noted that nightmares are due to the same scenario over and over. The arena being an abandoned forest cemetery did not help situations as now the patient has expressed seeing ghosts and hallucinations. Mainly the District Nine Female that he had killed in the dead of night being the root cause of the problem.

 _Observations: tired; refused vital signs once more; jittery at times; wound sites clean and skin intact_

 _Plan: Increase dose of sleeping tablet; reduce dose of morphling to 5mg once daily instead of twice daily._

Patient has expressed worry over supply of analgesia. Reassured him that there will be a year's supply given to him when he leaves the Capitol today. Advised him to get some rest, despite the nightmares. I will continue to monitor Mr. Stoppard if he continues to have nightmares. I may need to refer him for further investigations.

* * *

 _ **Log 5: July 15th 2XXX; 25th Hunger Games  
Subject: Routine Follow Up**_

Routine follow up before the Hunger Games officially begin. Mr. Stoppard is my first stop before heading to Mr. Villiers. Upon entering the residence, I notice three bodies on the seating area of the lounge. On closer inspection I can confirm that it is Mr. Stoppard and his tributes from the Hunger Games.

Unfortunately both the tributes picked by their citizens were from correctional facilities. Studies have found the Six has had a recent outbreak of morphling usage. Death by overdose have become the top in that district alone. There're no signs of why that is a thing as of yet.

However, this is not some post injection haze that the tributes and their mentor were experiencing. They were clammy and shivering, they have no concept of time. Training had started two hours ago and the tributes were still here. Smell of vomit too all points to signs that they are all withdrawing from morphling.

I conclude, therefore, that I have failed Mr. Stoppard. Under the law, I cannot legally help Dashiell and his tributes as that would be considered as bias. I could lose my registration for intervention given. I have to leave.

I hereby stop all interactions with Mr. Stoppard. He is no longer under my care.

With regret,

~Dr. Eir Hepius, Consultant.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Train to Five  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 11**_

* * *

Diaries and newspaper articles, I would normally find interesting, but when I got into my room on the train and find medical notes on top of the soft red velvet pillow is the most surprising thing. A little note from Lincoln tells me that it was his doing.

I didn't know that a specific doctor was attached to a victor, observing their vitals and wellbeing. Shows that the Capitol truly does care for their victors. I don't know to what extent, but I think they're more malicious than expected.

I think what happened to Dashiell is that his year's supply of analgesics were ambushed and stolen; or simply was not given to him. That year's supplied was widely distributed to the greater population of Six, mainly the outer sectors.

History books about the 'Morphling Epidemic' states that people were so deprived of anything else that drugs were the only thing that kept people motivated and moving. Unfortunately for Dashiell Stoppard he was caught up on this, as he was still suffering from the pain caused in the arena that he had gotten himself involved with street drugs, to take the pain away.

The Quarter Quell twist did not help so much either, as the two voted tributes were from correctional facilities in the district. It is a well-known fact that correctional facilities in Six were drug dens, many were used to make street drugs and put into the wider district.

The tributes had given him such an impure dose of morphling that he was spaced out on the train journey over and was withdrawing from the first day of training along with his two tributes. It's a shame what had happened.

The room hums in silence, the computer screen is the only thing illuminating the entire room. Windows long obscured by the creamy white blinds. I'm still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday, being holed up in my own room for the last twenty-four hours.

Nothing is going on, Five is fast approaching and I'm not ready for whatever is going to come next. News must have spread by now regarding about Julia. What I've found exploring the districts is that they talk, they look at you differently because your clothes are leagues better and more expensive than their lives sometimes. It scares you to the core how much they stare at you, shakes me to my core at times. More than Julia Aquilla, herself, scares me now.

I don't know what the future holds for me, and I don't know if Julia will have anything to do with it, but I sure damn would not like to think about it now. I need to brave myself for what's to come. Four more districts to go and then I'll be home, in the safety of my own club.


	26. Thorium Cole

_**Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
District Five  
Julia Aquilla's Victory Tour: Day 12**_

* * *

 _ **Name:**_ Thorium Cole  
 _ **Age:**_ 18  
 _ **District:**_ 12 (formerly from 13)

Born from the prestigious Cole family of Thirteen, Thorium Cole is the eldest son of Orestes Cole, who was the deputy mayor of Thirteen before the fall of their district. The family along with the Iscariots have traversed through the bleak winter storms and breached into Twelve just as the bombs dropped.

Thorium Cole was born well after all that though. He grew up without knowing the events of the past. He only ever did find out that the deputy mayor and the mayor of Thirteen instigated the First ever rebellion that shook Panem.

So, now. With the Hunger Games' Twenty-fifth anniversary looming, a twist was introduced by President Laomedes Augustus. That all twenty-four tributes shall be voted upon by each district to send to the Hunger Games.

" _On the 25th Anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district is to hold an election and vote those eligible for the Hunger Games, to represent their district for this year's Hunger Games."_

Of course, the president sent incentives to those that didn't want to vote their own citizens. Lower districts such as those from Ten, Eleven and Twelve as well as Eight and Six; will gain extra grain or income if they voted tributes with rebel ties or were from the original rebels during the Dark Days.

At the age of eighteen is when Thorium Cole had found out that he was from a rebel family. It was at that age that all his wrath came down on his family, a secret that his father had kept so far down that he dared not speak of it.

He had always wondered, when his father had been sneaking around as of late. He had found out that he was actively paying off people not to vote for his daughter and son, but alas the greater district disagreed.

The Merchant side of Twelve is outnumbered by the Seam, and no matter how much the bargained and paid they will always come to loss. Twelve holds a silent grudge against the Iscariots and the Coles. To the point that they voted Thorium Cole and Gretta Iscariot for the Hunger Games.

For the first time, Thorium was scared and outraged with the ordeal. He shut down completely on the way over to the most glorious and ambitious Hunger Games yet. He looked vacant as he was presented to the Capitol like animals for slaughter.

Twenty-four tributes stare at the Capitol void, of those twenty-four, only twenty looked like they were pissed and angry at not only the Capitol whilst dressed in funny garbs and clothes, but also at their districts for dragging them into this hell.

These are the stories of all twenty-four tributes and how they came to be.

* * *

 _ **Julie Grayling; District Six Female, 17  
Position: 24th**_

She was a beautiful woman in her own right. Before everything had imploded on her life. Before she was sent away to a correctional facility. Her father was responsible for plunging more than half the population of Six into poverty, which is now lower than those of Ten, Eleven and Twelve. Poverty stricken people did what they knew they could, exacted their revenge not on her father, but on her.

Too bad that Julie was a lost cause, as she had been suffering from morphling since she was at the age of fifteen. She was withdrawing during the bloodbath, that she fainted during the countdown. That's when the whole of Panem found out that there were explosives around the plates the tributes started in.

* * *

 _ **Marina Larwi; District Four Female, 16  
Position: 23rd**_

The most innocent one of the bunch. Whereas most of the tributes were rebel families or juveniles, border line sociopaths and druggies; Marina was the innocent one. Her sisters were not so innocent. They had stolen their father's assets and have run off at the other side of the district to go into hiding. How did they do it? Why did they vote her in? They blamed her father when he could no longer pay his workers, and cost hundreds to lose their jobs.

She died quick, by the hands of the Two Female during the peak of the bloodbath. She was never going to win the Hunger Games; and her mentors were relieved when she was finished off quickly, even if it's from the bloodthirsty Two Female.

* * *

 _ **Elon Sagitta; District Seven Male, 16  
Position: 22nd**_

The mayor's son. He was the youngest of all his sons that were or reaping age; in actuality he was the only one of reaping age. His older brothers have already started to climb the political ladder in Seven, each vying for a position as mayor after their father. Little did anyone know; his father had been rigging elections every four years so that he stays on top. Someone had leaked information and here he is.

The One female took care of him too quickly before he could react. Being born from a higher up family in Seven, he never took up the axe to work a day in his life. So when an axe comes straight for him in the bloodbath, that's when his life ended. Too bad the rigging still didn't stop in Seven.

* * *

 _ **Poplin Lovelace; District Eight Female, 13  
Position: 21st**_

District Eight was known for their orphans and youth gangs, and little Poplin Lovelace was one such orphan. She was underweight and underfed, the growing population of orphans in Eight has become a problem, faster than the morphling epidemic in Six. She was pale, and frail but she was fast.

Unfortunately for her, she was not fast enough for the One girl as she stabbed her repeatedly before she went off to go for more. No one cares for the orphans in Eight, and no one will care when she comes back in a box.

* * *

 _ **Bernadette Fawkes; District Nine Female, 14  
Position: 20th**_

Her parents were from Eleven originally, they were 'instigators', that's the word that circulates within the entire district about those that started rebellion. They lived a comfortable life within the district until the one day they forgot to pay _'The Family'._ She was the sole remaining child of the Fawkes family, there is no one else alive other than her parents. She was voted in because of _them_ and it will take a miracle for her to get out.

The miracle was cut short when the Nine male, Andre Profaci, from the Profaci family ended her. It was to show a message to the Fawkes family, that they were not to be trifled with, not to be messed around with. She dies as the fifth casualty of the bloodbath.

* * *

 _ **Carmen Medina; District Ten Female, 17  
Position: 19th**_

She knew that the minute this Quell twist was announced that she was in trouble. Her parents played with fire, her mother was born from the wealthy side, where all the caucasians lived and her father was from _the other side_. She was the eldest of their children, and the twist just sealed her fate entirely.

Carmen doesn't survive past the bloodbath, killed by the Two girl just as she was about to run away from the Cornucopia. She said that she was going to try her best, but she never anticipated the sheer number of psychopaths in the arena that year.

* * *

 _ **Pekoe Wilson; District Eleven Female, 12  
Position: 18th**_

She was dragged onto the stage during the Reapings. She stayed in her room during training, and she spoke very little during the interviews. She didn't know why she was here, she didn't know why her parents looked solemn and sorrowful but did nothing to stop the Peacekeeepers from taking him. What she truly didn't know is that her parents had sold her to be the scapegoat for Eleven, they sold her so they have enough money to survive themselves.

Her sobs were imminent and she screamed as a blade cut her sides and then her throat by the Nine male. She was maybe more innocent than most. She never wanted this, and she died not knowing why she was voted in amongst the wretched and macabre.

* * *

 _ **Abigail Jessup; District Seven Female, 18  
Position: 17th**_

Last of her name, from the rebel family Jessup. Her mother and father had died the year previous from a serious lumber mill accident. Her district betrays her even more, even though she had thought that the family had been entirely forgiven. Her uncle, Oak Jessup, had been pardoned, but she never really knew him. Her sister was fostered and her name changed when she was voted in.

She fought for her life, escaped the bloodbath with an axe and into a different coliseum, the one where trees have taken over it completely. She never knew that she was being followed by the Eight boy, his cold weapons made of steel had found her and killed her two hours after the bloodbath.

* * *

 _ **Edie Thomson; District Five Female, 15  
Position: 16th**_

She claimed innocence over and over again during her reaping. It was harmless protests between her and her friends. She never thought it would escalate this far. She was involved in the accident; however, she didn't mean for her harmless protest to escalate into the half the district being without power for two weeks. She was arrested on site and put into a facility, and then promptly voted into the arena during the first Quell.

She managed to disappear into coliseum, but she was tracked down by the Two female by the end of the first day. She died with a spear through her heart. She was only trying to prove a point, that the kids in her district were worth investing on.

* * *

 _ **Simon Spencer; District Three Male, 15  
Position: 15th**_

They were all called into the square, every single citizen that could make it. He was part of that crowd and he watched in horror as every single registered orphan was projected onto a giant screen and the mayor asked the people of Three to vote this way, with no remorse for the orphans. Now, Simon was a smart kid with a promising future, despite his orphan status. He was a shoe in for scholarships and make it to the top school of Three, but the projection had only painted a target on his back by his rivals.

He had allied himself with the Five girl, but as soon as she was killed it didn't take long for him to die either as the Two female got to him too. A bright, young man ripped away by jealousy and rumours.

* * *

 _ **Gretta Iscariot; District Twelve Female, 17  
Position: 14th**_

The district fell for the incentive, that when they vote for rebel tied families then the district will gain extra grain and money for their compliance. It just so happens that the Iscariots and the Coles were bad people, Twelve's grudge against Thirteen was not easily forgotten. Twelve did not forget the troubles that plunged Twelve into the lowest of the low within the remaining Twelve districts.

Her death was attributed to the Two boy, both her and Thorium had planned on meeting up, but thy were separated during the bloodbath. On the dawn of the second day, they would never meet as she was struck down almost immediately. No remorse was felt by the district other than those of her family that had tried to prevent her from being elected for the Games.

* * *

 _ **Miguel Martinez; District Ten Male, 16  
Position: 13th**_

The collective from the caucasian side had all decided that it should be _the other side_ that should be volunteered. The wealthier driving force of the district should be spared, they owned the ranches, they own the factories. They own district Ten. They all chose a name out of every Latino in the _other side_ and it landed on Miguel Martinez, the son of the leader of the so called _'tribe'_ of the other side.

He made it as far as the second day of the Hunger Games. The Nine boy had dealt with him swiftly. He died trying to fight of his life, but it was not enough. Ten's history of racism had been cut down over the next couple of decades, as they realise that no matter what happens it is still their own that gets picked every year for the Hunger Games.

* * *

 _ **Calice Shandy; District One Female, 18  
Position: 12th**_

She married on the day the twist was announced. She was the last remaining Gemmer in the district. She was scared for her life as an orphan. She never trained, she tried her best to train when she was younger, when her mother died of illness in the backends of the Violet Village, the poorest of all villages in One. She married, Arnold Shandy, who had fallen in love with her, she did it to hide her name because she was unprepared, but then Arnold Shandy's father found out and he did everything under his power to make sure she was voted in.

Calice's demise was due to her own, she was confident she could kill the pale and skinny boy from Eight. She was at least trained enough, but she never anticipated such skill to come from the boy and soon she was killed off relatively fast. The line of the Gemmer rebel family is now extinct with her death.

* * *

 _ **Chris Ford; District Six Male, 18  
Position: 11th**_

His older sister had denounced the family name already and had left him to fend for himself in the world entirely different from everywhere else in Panem: District Six. She distanced herself more by getting married to some wealthy guy in Sector One and left him in Sector Eleven, the outskirts of Six; the poorest of Six and all of Panem. He turned to crime to make ends meet, then was arrested and placed in a correctional facility. He had snuck morphling for Dashiell Stoppard; that ended not being strong enough and had them all withdrew.

His stylist had given him a dose of morphling on the day of the Hunger Games; he had enough to last him two days without withdrawing. He had only lasted so long due to him hiding so well. He was eventually caught by the One boy and killed on the second day of the Games. The Ford name is no more.

* * *

 _ **Catherine Reis; District Three Female, 18  
Position: 10th**_

She accepted a scholarship a year before the twist was announced. She could not wait to start her life as a woman of science. Her chances of attending the newly built and opened Parker Institute of Science and Technology had been dashed because of that cursed scholarship. She didn't know that the backlash was going to be that immense, as the scholarship was given to the smartest kid every year.

Catherine went alone in the Games, or rather her allies had all died in the bloodbath. She wound up in an arena covered in sand, she made it this far and the sponsors showered her with gifts of wire and a car battery. She made traps, but it was never strong enough to halt the advances of the One Male as he cut her up.

* * *

 _ **Chard Cicla; District Eleven Male, 18  
Position: 9th**_

Back in the lower district, the law is loosened a little bit more than what it will be like in One or Two. However, the hivemind that is the people that comprised these districts is stronger than the police force. He was caught, with his lover in one of the orchards by the river. His family had all but abandoned him and they spread rumours about him that circulated like wildfire. They relied heavily on him before he was caught, but now they hated him for what he is.

He died on the third day, caught by the Two girl as she slashed his throat. He never wanted to die like that, and as he ran away from the girl before his death he cursed his family and his entire district for voting him in, just because he was homosexual.

* * *

 _ **Drake Trieste; District Four Male, 17  
Position: 8th**_

He was arrested at the height of teenage rebellion when he was fifteen. Spent two years in the correctional facility. He was the ringmaster, the instigator of a local rebellion in Four. They broke stalls and caused racket, he was deemed a public menaced and was voted by the people of Four to finally be rid of him.

His death was because of the Eighth boy, third day in he was ambushed in the coliseum where the Cornucopia was. They fought bravely, two like minded boys, but ultimately, he lost to him. His death only spurred the victors of Four to work harder to finally stop teenage rebellion for good.

* * *

 _ **Broderick Haik; District Five Male, 18  
Position: 7th**_

District Five was ruthless in hunting down rebel families. They found him, within a corner of the district in an orphanage. He cried out loud when they tore his sister away from him. They knew about his family and they voted him into the Hunger Games.

His last hurrah was when he managed to cut the Two boy before he was killed immediately after it. The Haik family's sole living name has gone missing from Five and no one knows what had happened to her since the Quell.

* * *

 _ **Andre Profaci; District Nine Male, 18  
Position: 6th**_

His mission was clear, eliminate the Nine girl and then come home the victor. He did so with such skill and finesse. He learned all of these from his family, no one knew that he was from some crime syndicate family in Nine; no one really knew about the _Five Families._ They'd like to keep it like that.

His death at the hands of the Eight boy was a great blow to the Profaci family. In truth, he was never supposed to be in the Hunger Games, but one of their rivals: The Maranzano family, held a smear campaign about him and he ended up in the arena. He was given the task of killing the Nine girl whilst he was in the arena, not that he could escape it now. His father wanted him home to take over after winning the Games; to bad that never happened.

* * *

 _ **Linus Fetzner; District Eight Male, 18  
Position: 5th**_

Youth gangs have popped out in recent years in Eight, more orphans mean more gangs forming. It's an epidemic really, Linus Fetzner was orphaned. He led one of the most prominent street gangs in Eight: 'The Lost Boys' comprised mainly of orphans. They controlled the outer rims of the district and protect their own. The citizens were scared of him and have found out that he had rebel family blood in his veins. Their idea was to send him to the Games, and the problem of his little gang will resolve itself. It didn't.

His life was taken by Thorium Cole. He was injured from the fight he had with Andre, and he crossed paths with a very angry Thorium. The boy from Twelve only let his anger out when he approached Linus. In truth, Thorium was scared to die and this was his first kill.

* * *

 _ **Francis Becker; District One Male, 18  
Position: 4th**_

He campaigned the most out of all the tributes. He wanted it; the fame, the glory, the money. Everything. He had convinced the wealthy to vote him in, he campaigned door-to-door when he trawled his way through the Boulevard of Great Houses. He was from a lesser house, sure, but he was the top of his class that year, and they believed him.

However, his death at the hands of the Two boy was a bet. A bet to see who can kill who first. It was unfortunate that the boy from Two played dirty by working together with his ally, the Two girl.

* * *

 _ **Claudia Messalina; District Two Female, 18  
Position: 3rd**_

A minor scuffle landed her in the Hunger Games. She was in the markets when it happened. A slight altercation with a Peacekeeper in an alleyway, where she was abused, sexually and physically. She never wanted that, so she fought back. She ended up killing the Peacekeeper, but she was still convicted of murder. She was to be put to death, but as the twist was announced they asked the citizens of Two to vote her in instead.

She fought well, her and her partner. She found that killing was more enjoyable than she thought so she went on a spree with her partner. On the third day, however, when they had killed the One boy, she was immediately stabbed in the back by her partner, telling her before she died that never to trust anyone.

* * *

 _ **Hadrian Pancras; District Two Male, 18  
Position: 2nd**_

An orphan adopted by the Gladius Training Academy and was given purpose by both Leroy and Ajax. The victors running the academy held him in high regards, built him up to be a killing machine, prepped and ready to win the Hunger Games. Hadrian was vouched for by Leroy himself and the whole district followed him. It was high time for another Two victor to return.

His cockiness was his demise. Never did he anticipate that the boy from Twelve would use the traps made by the Three girl against him. It was genius, the idea of wrapping all the live wires around him, temporarily immobilizing him to the point that he was on the ground. It only took one sharp knife to the head for his cannon to echo in the arena.

* * *

 _ **Thorium Cole  
Victor of the 25th Hunger Games  
Aftermath of the Twenty-sixth Hunger Games**_

* * *

He was alone in his home, alone in the whole world in the Victor's Village of Twelve. Summer had come and it was hot, but his entire house was air-conditioned to always be in perfect room temperature.

This year had been tough on him. His sister was taken from him, under conspiracy or some other shit like that. He heard that the Capitol did not like his performance in the Games. They were rooting for the boy for Hadrian Pancras or Claudia, and even that boy Francis.

He knew that his sister being reaped for the Hunger Games was a threat by the President himself. There's nothing else for it, he was being punished for what he had done in the Games, never mind that he used his ingenuity to defeat Hadrian, he used a trap that wasn't his own, and on top of that he was a rebel through and through.

He had grieved her death since then; reminiscing days when they were happy together, playing in their back garden. He was happy, unaware of the world around him. Everything felt better, before he knew about his past.

Now he will never remember what it was really like to have that.


	27. Adrestia Stark

_**Aelia Serranos  
District Two**_

* * *

" _I couldn't help but to tell you I'd be alright  
when, to be true, it was tearing me apart inside"_

The district makes one question the mundanity of life. Central district Two offers nothing but Peacekeepers and warehouses as far as the eye could see. They, the white uniformed army, roam the streets looking to stop crime that possibly doesn't even exist in the centre of Two.

That's why Aelia Serranos found it so exciting every year when the Reapings occur. There are so few people of Reaping age in central Two that she's lonely most of the time. Sure, there is school but most kids her age train in The Nut to one day become the very same Peacekeepers she had come to slowly dislike.

She sighs wistfully as she stands with the other eighteen-year-olds of her fine district. This was her last year in the Reapings, she wasn't entirely nervous but after the so called 'Quarter Quell' last year she had been somewhat on edge, much like the rest of the district. She was, however, sad that it will be the last year in which most of her excitement comes from; now having to go back to working for her father at the markets.

Her family was still recovering from the murderous Claudia Messalina of last year. She was spared a quick death and was sent to the Hunger Games, or rather voted into the Games. She didn't vote for her, she voted for someone else. Aelia liked Claudia, she had messed up the market stall she was working on; scary, yes, excitement? Most definitely.

The sun was shining, and as the escort calls out names from the giant glass bowls there was nothing but gasps and celebration as two tributes have found themselves volunteering. One boy, who looked strong, as strong as most Peacekeepers that wander the district.

She wasn't focused on him. She was focused on the girl. She knew who it was. Four years had passed, and she hadn't seen her for two of those years. Now there she is, standing looking at the crowd at no one in particular until they lock eyes. She tears away her gaze fast, a slight red tint could be seen by Aelia although she could have been making that up.

That's when Aelia decided to inject excitement into her life, instead of waiting for life to hand them to her. After the chosen tributes have entered the Justice Building and the crowds are beginning to disperse, Aelia rushes towards the building, one that was holding her long-time friend.

As she enters the room she spots her sitting on a velvet red chaise sofa, looking out at the window with sorrowful slate grey eyes. She looks up as the door closes to lock eyes with Aelia's bright blue ones. There was an awkward silence before one of them speaks up.

"It's been a long time." Aelia says as she stands by the ornate door, why has she suddenly become so nervous?

"…Yeah."

Silence again and Aelia approaches the female tribute and hugs her once more. The warmth she felt was not reciprocated by the latter and Aelia pulls back from the embrace. What had happened to her friend? Ever since going to that Gladius Academy she keeps hearing about, the girl in front of her had changed.

This was not the Adrestia Stark she had come to know.

"What happened to you?" Aelia asks as she stands opposite her, she saw the way Adrestia averts her eyes away from her.

"I grew up, trained hard enough to make a name for myself."

"Tia…"

She could remember that one day, when they were both sixteen, she had initiated the kiss that had shocked Tia and as she kissed back they were caught by her father. He hounded Aelia at first shouting horrible and cruel things, but that had scared Adrestia to the point that she had vanished from her life completely since then.

"I need to go soon." Adrestia said standing up. She fixes the shirt she was wearing.

"I know you'll be back," Aelia states and uses her hands to move Adrestia's eyes towards hers. "When you do I'm going to make sure you come back to a more loving environment."

"It's not about that."

"I know it's not," Aelia says. "My dad, he…he was just stressed and shocked. He didn't know what came over him. He was happy for us, but then you disappeared…"

She could see the guilt on her face. How the hurt had come to resurface but then she steels her eyes, the slate grey briefly flashes a dull blue as she looks directly at Aelia. She doesn't say anything, not for a long time, but all she does is hug her.

"I'm sorry." She says to Aelia.

"I'll be waiting for you when you get back, let's hang out like old times."

"Yeah," Tia says, "I would love that."

* * *

" _Your silhouette is fading away too quickly for me to bear  
Just as the wind, you blow by again  
and suddenly you're not there"_

Days pass by even slower than the last. No news had come from anywhere, the chariot rides were the last she had seen of Adrestia and then almost radio silence. She had spent most of her days glued to the Capitol supplied television. Her eyes fixed, she had not slept until a couple of days had passed.

The interviews were being shown; late at night. Most of the district is probably asleep by now, this wasn't mandatory viewing. She stayed up late for this. She waited so long and disregarded the first two tributes plus the male tribute of Two to see her.

She was beautiful, from her outfit of statues in the chariot rides to the very same motif. Adrestia Stark was dressed as the very same goddess she was during her debut of the Capitol. Her hair, curly as it was, had been straightened as it wraps around her head in bun. A laurel branch around her forehead, her freckles seemed to have been removed by cosmetics, but her eyes remain the same slate grey that Aelia adores.

Her dress flows down from her chest to the ground, a flowing white to compliment her fair complexion. It depicts her as a maiden, someone that is pure and innocent. Like a true goddess in Aelia's eyes.

That's when Aelia whispers to herself that she really loves her, and the regret she felt after it eats away at her. She regretted not telling her before it could be too late. She was confident that she would come back to her but after seeing the rest of the tributes, she's not as sure now.

* * *

" _I shouldn't cry, I shouldn't cry  
But I can't seem to hold it in  
Oh, please don't leave me"_

Aelia had sat up during the first day to watch the Bloodbath unfold in front of her eyes. The beautiful meadow that was used a few Games back is now covered in white snow. The crystal flakes fall from the sky as they all rose up. The wonderful Cornucopia was silver as it reflected what little sun they were getting.

Every tribute was wearing a thick coat, their breaths condensed in front of them as each and everyone of them look entirely nervous. Aelia was glued to the screen, her eyes scanning for her crush and spots her immediately, beside her district partner.

Nervous now, she watched as the countdown begins to reach zero. The moment it does, all hell broke loose. Cameras pan from side to side looking for tributes, showing the death of many. Dark red blood splatter across white snow, the difference in their colour made the blood stand out further.

The camera briefly focuses on Adrestia and Aelia could do nothing but shout her support. Her face inches from the screen as her friend blaze through blood-stained snow to pick up a mace. She avoided whatever attacks and raced to one of the Three tributes. Aelia looked away as the mace comes down on their head, bile nearly comes up to her throat, but she suppresses it.

It is necessary for her to kill so she can come home to her. That's what she keeps telling herself as Adrestia gets to another tribute. At that point there were so few tributes left in the initial starting point that deemed the Bloodbath is over. There was never any doubt that Adrestia could make it past the Bloodbath, but she was a nervous wreck; that all she could do was cry so suddenly, tears obscuring her only vision of Adrestia.

* * *

Over the next few days, Aelia could not sleep, think or eat. Her father, she would need to apologise to him, had done nothing but worry for her health. He would sit for ages with her just to make sure she eats, and when she's falling asleep he was there with a blanket, but that sleep would only last maybe a few minutes before she is up again watching ever so vigilant.

Adrestia had come to death three times over those few days. Her group had broken apart the day after the Bloodbath, too many characters collided and clashed that they all fought. Naturally, Aelia was glued to the screen once more as Adrestia clashed with the One boy, almost losing her life but she had managed to use that mace to her advantage and down the One boy went.

The next time she would come to approach death like that was when she wandered alone, approaching snow covered trees. She was lost, endless white as far as the eyes could see, the trees blend in with the ground that it's hard to discern what is what. The air is still, and the snow falls from the heavens once more that particular day. When out comes the strong looking boy from Six, he had a makeshift weapon with him and he had foolishly attacked her with it. However, she had struggled that fight, the boy was surprisingly good with that weapon, not to mention the concealed knife he held in his pockets.

Once again, Aelia's eyes never left the screen. Her father had come to her side to console her as tears threatened to fall once more. She came close to losing her arm and then her head but Adrestia won when she had disarmed the boy, his knife falls to the cold ground and she picks it up to stab the boy right in the chest.

The last time she had nearly died was when her own district partner had tracked her down on the last day. He brought down the sword beside her cold sleeping form, the shock from the noise had woken her up but she was kicked down again. He had a look of absolute bloodlust in his face that made Aelia nervous, this was it she could die. She had closed her eyes for most of the fight, only hearing muted sounds from the screen until a cannon was heard, she opened her eyes quickly to see who had won and she smiled to see a bruised and battered Adrestia standing victorious.

She had only one opponent left and Adrestia had made it look easier in comparison to the other three fights she has had. It was against the One girl, she smiled cheekily at her and complimented her appearance, obviously to rile her up but it did nothing.

Adrestia threw the knife from the Six boy at her, she misses but that was enough time to tackle the girl to the cold ground as hands snake up to her neck. She was thrown off almost immediately, then they fight with their weapons. The One girl with her short sword and Adrestia with her mace.

Her mace comes down at the sword with such force that it flies away from the girl's hands. Shocked, she tries to run away but Adrestia had thrown her mace at her back with such strength that the girl collapses like paper on the snow.

She was still breathing when Adrestia held a sword to her back, she could see the condensation from her breaths. Aelia begins to celebrate as the sword finally comes down to the One girl's back, her cannon resounding in the arena and the fanfare was deafening.

Aelia was going to see her again.

* * *

" _Train has arrived, now is the time  
you're going away again"_

She was back only six months and now she's leaving her again. Aelia and Adrestia had confessed each other's love and have started seeing one another; accepted by Aelia's father, who even apologized for his behaviour all those years ago, the same one that drove Adrestia away. He did so with a warm embrace.

Adrestia caught everyone by surprise when she had asked Aelia out the minute she stepped off the train, with a kiss no less. The following question was to move in with her in the victor's village. Aelia said yes, she would not have liked it any other way.

Where Aelia's heart and personality was often warm and cheerful; Adrestia's was a storm: moody and battle-hardened. Aelia had warmed and calmed the raging storm within Adrestia's heart. They were happy together.

So, imagine the grief Aelia had when Capitolites explode into their own home, Aranea Weppe, the stylist brushes her aside with her red manicured hands. Her blonde hair covered in sparkles goes to hug Adrestia firm and hard; followed by the escort for Two, Jean Temples, with his charming personality.

Aelia felt left out, she had spent a glorious six months with Adrestia, but now that the Victory Tour is about to start she felt left out once more. The way she sits by the sidelines watching as the love of her life look disgruntled by being prodded and poked like there's no more tomorrow.

* * *

" _When the fun is over it'll always seem to end the same"_

They sit by the end of the station, the battered and broken platform seemed like it will crumble at their feet, but it was the only place where they can get away from the wretched Capitolite crew. There's no way they'll find them at the end of the station; especially if they're all busy doing Panem knows what.

"I'm so sad that you're going away again." Aelia says as she looks down at her hands entwined with Adrestia's.

"It'll only be for two weeks," she says to her. "You can last that, can you?"

"I suppose," Aelia looks sad as she brings up her hands to kiss hers. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They sit by the only bench at the end of the station. The sun is going down and the moon is about to rise, the train can be heard from a distance. The nervous feeling rises up once more at the fast approaching train. They sit in comfortable silence as they watch from a distance everyone packing up the train ready for the tour.

Aelia is trying to convince herself that it's going to be like this all the time, her closest companion and confidant; her lover, is going to have to be whisked away to the Capitol every year until the day she dies.

* * *

" _Though I know it's coming, I can never seem to stop the pain"_

The next year rolls on by like a hurricane, the Victory Tour went by as successful as one would hope, but now comes the real challenge, it's time for her first year as mentor, accompanied by Drusus and Lyre. She never knew why Leroy and Ajax hated Fossil, Drusus and Lyre but that was no excuse to hate them too.

She was her own person after all, and that's why Aelia loved her. Aelia touches Adrestia's soft freckled face. She loved seeing her face lit up by the moonlight, she is beautiful even at different touches of light.

"I really am sorry that I have to go again," Adrestia says through an embrace.

"I understand," Aelia says, she always does.

It's been a year already and Adrestia's hard shell that has been drilled through her by the Galdius Academy is now being chipped away. She had become more civil and less reclusive, although they do still like the odd silence now and then.

"You know, in this very moment, you look even more amazing and I can't avoid your gaze." Aelia says to her, caressing her soft hands again on Adrestia's face. "Once again, I can see nothing but your face."

She holds her face in between hers as they share a kiss. The moment was bliss, it was if they were the only two people in the entire world. The dark conceals their face as they continue their kiss before Adrestia boards the train. Her face solemn as she takes on her new role as a mentor for the tributes.

* * *

" _Night's taken hold as I'm walking home  
I wonder if I'll be okay alone"_

The train leaves over the horizon, into the night; into the darkness. She watches wistfully, already longing for the touch of her lover. When it disappears into the horizon onto the gleaming lights of the Capitol, that's when Aelia walks back to an empty home.

She wanders the streets within Two, stopping by a couple of spots where her and Adrestia used to go during their downtime. She imagines a future with her, maybe adopting some kids and other animals. Living a life without any care in the world.

Her thoughts go mad at the sound of it all, that she doesn't realise that she had been followed.

* * *

" _Lights on the street glow at my feet  
my shadow is all I've got  
to keep me company"_

She keeps her head down, the guiding street lights on the way to the Victor's village is sparse but comforting. She felt safe, regardless. Her shadow keeps her company, one foot in front of the other, never skipping a beat.

However, she felt a chill in the air, a sudden change in the temperature as if it plummeted within the last few seconds. Her breath hitches as she blinks there's two more shadowy figures in front of her. She didn't call out, there's no one around for miles, the road to the Victor's village is long and sparsely populated.

She was going to turn around; spend the night with her father and come back to the village tomorrow. That's what she had decided before she felt something hit her head. Her vision blurs, the lights multiply into a thousand different ones before fading into black; she collapses to the hard ground, her face and body hitting the loose stones enough to break skin.

Her eyes close and open, her brain is telling her to stay awake but finding it hard to do so. Her vision blurs once more before refocusing on the two shadowy figures, they approach her; she wants to scream. Nothing is coming out, her vision already blurring once more before it shits completely. Her last few remaining seconds of consciousness is all she had as she heard one of them say something to her.

"We still need Adrestia." The voice said coolly, it felt familiar too. "So, you can't ruin this for us."

* * *

 _ **Adrestia Stark  
Victor of the Twenty-sixth Hunger Games**_

* * *

" _I shouldn't cry, I shouldn't cry  
But I can't seem to hold it in  
Oh, please don't leave me"_

Grief stricken was not enough to describe what she felt on her arrival back home to the district. Aelia had been the only light in her otherwise darkness in her heart. She was dead, beneath the ground during the time she had spent her time in the Capitol mentoring. Her lover, the love of her life; the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with is now dead.

The funeral had happened during the last day of the Games, she hadn't a clue that Aelia was gone from her life. All she was focused on at the time was rooting for the last few tributes in the Games, finally finding a different purpose than being a Capitol doll. She enjoyed mentoring her tributes and had struck up friendships, but now she's angry.

Anger and denial were interspersed when she had learned of what had happened. She rushed past everyone, as tears threaten to fall at first, but when she arrived by her gravestone she cries with all her might. She's really gone; the smile on her face that could warm the coldest feeling is gone. Pleading to whatever higher power to bring her back, to let her know that she loved her so much; to say goodbye one last time.

This day would always get to her, she would become even more reclusive as she focuses all her might into training tributes back in Gladius Academy. She would stop her crying, that's not what Aelia would have wanted her to do; she would have wanted to live her life. There's nothing she could do, and she knew that.

* * *

" _Oh, please don't leave me…"_


	28. Salvia Korovai

_**Salvia Korovai  
Victor of the Twenty-seventh Hunger Games  
Three years after Twenty-seventh Hunger Games**_

* * *

She's been mentoring for the last two years, and yet she still fears what's to come. There's nothing she could do or say to stop her tributes from returning to the district in a box. The tears that their parents cry is much like the tears she sheds every other night when she thinks of her own allies in the arena.

The uncertainty lingers in the air as wind billows her yellow sundress. The clouds overcast, light peeking through cracks within the sky. Seems like rain once more. She sighs as she gets up from her kneeling position in front of the gravestone.

Two weeks have passed since the funeral of her former mentor; Adlay Durum. His liver had finally given out after the Twenty-ninth Hunger Games, he was hospitalised for days in the Capitol after being found unresponsive back in the room of his private apartment, by an unsuspecting avox.

And know she's alone once more. It reminds her more of when her allies have all been killed within the rocky forest, she's lucky to have made it far, and even more so to have won; and yet she still felt the guilt and the loneliness on the last day.

A flower wreath sits upon his gravestone, made of wheat and daisies; a district specialty. Very few attended his funeral, Adlay is more of an acquaintance kind of person, and never had friends. All his friends long abandoned him after his victory a good two decades ago.

She begins to walk back to the train station. Her eyes scan the white stones with names on them. Names of the fallen all uniform, victims of the Games themselves. A lonely sight leaves her mouth as she tucks her cardigan into her a bit more, the chill getting to her a little bit.

It comes to a sudden realisation that Adlay Durum had become the first casualty amongst the twenty-nine victors; the Thirtieth Hunger Games starting soon. It shook the Capitol more than it did her own district. The fact that victors aren't as invincible as they seemed on the television and various interviews.

The station is not far off from the Cemetery of the Fallen. Why she was heading for the station? She did not know. Leroy Ramnes had sent letters to every victor to meet up in the Capitol, an emergency sort of meeting. She didn't feel compelled to come, but she wanted to. The letter was very cryptic enough to have piqued her interest.

It's not often you get summoned to the Capitol in between Hunger Games.

* * *

As soon as she steps off the platform at the Capitol station, she's met with the sheer brightness of it all. The sun shines brighter in the Capitol for some reason, compared to the dreary overcast of Nine to summer weather in the Capitol.

It's off-peak season so there's not a lot of people in the station. She does, however, see two figures huddled together, talking quietly and secretively. She makes her approach; flat white shoes make no sound as she sneaks up to the woman.

"Esme." She says to the woman and she turns around with a smile.

"Salvia, a pleasure as always." They hug briefly, the smile never leaving each other's faces, before she turns to the man Esme was talking to. "Ahab Seafoam, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am." The Twenty-ninth victor replies with a nod of his head, Salvia thinks about how polite the boy was, but also the way he shifts nervously.

"What's wrong?" Salvia asks, mainly her dear friend Esme rather than the boy.

"It's…nothing." Esme smiles tiredly. "I've not been home in Eight for two weeks or so and I was just giving my grief to the newest victor here."

Salvia eyes her curiously, one brown eyebrow raised. Now that she has a few more moments to observe the female victor, she does look considerably more tired and a lot more dishevelled than her normal appearance. Pale skin, paler than usual; bags under her eyes; makeup seemingly smeared on her face. Something is wrong, but Salvia isn't going to press further, not until later anyway.

"I'm sorry for not coming to the funeral." Ahab pipes up suddenly, and Salvia's gaze breaks from Esme to the male victor.

"It's okay," she says with a smile. "It was a very small service, and besides you didn't know him that much."

"We should all just go to this stupid meeting that brute of a man has planned." Esme rolls her eyes and she reaches for Salvia; her long sleeve suddenly reveals her arm.

"There's bruises on your arm!" Salvia exclaims as she takes hold of the woman's hand, bringing her long white sleeve up to her elbow to reveal more. "Esme, what is happening?"

The woman remains quiet, her glances switching between Salvia, the ground and Ahab. Salvia looks at the boy, but he's looking a lot more nervous than he before she had approached the two. In fact, he looks absolutely petrified, a drastic change from a couple of minutes ago.

"I will fill you in soon." Esme says as she urges Salvia to move. "I promise."

* * *

"Ahh, Ms. Korovai, Ms. Tripoline and Mr. Seafoam." Caligula Valentine greets them all when they arrive at club Valentino's. "We've been expecting you all, if you can all follow me."

They follow the older man, now nearing his sixties, Caligula has built up a very good reputation for his bar and club. During the week before the Hunger Games begin and certainly during it, the bar is normally packed and full of potential sponsors and elite Capitolites.

Now the bar is empty as Salvia's brown eyes scan the room, a few patrons linger about, some conducting some sort of interviews. They're led into a hallway and up a few flight of stairs. The owner of the club speaking to Ahab as they do so, just hushed tones and whispers.

All Salvia can think of are the bruises that she saw on Esme. The victor behind her on the flight of stairs have been quiet since they've made their way to the club, avoiding the general public as they did so. She wants to so badly ask questions, but she knows Esme long enough that her promises are absolute. She'll have to wait.

Caligula opened the plain brown door into the private bar. The air is thick with tension the minute Salvia walks in with the other two victors. The atmosphere cold too, she shivers at the thought as she sits beside Esme at the back of the bar; Ahab joining his fellow four victors at a booth.

"Is that everyone?" Leroy asked Caligula, who nodded.

"All the ones that had responded to the invitation." The older man said, "Three people are unaccounted for, and with the recently deceased Mr. Durum, that should be all."

Salvia looks around to spot who's not here. Thorium isn't here, the victor from Twelve has never been one to communicate with the other victors. Although he's cordial enough when you do speak with him, he has confessed during her Victory Tour that he hated the Capitol for what they've put his district and family through; Leroy too was another example as to why he doesn't come to victor meetings.

There's a consensus in hating the very first victor it seems. She further looks around to see that the Eleven victor is not here too. Bergamot Musambi has never been one for gatherings either it seems. She doesn't know much about him, only know as much as everyone in this room. Caligula included. The man is mysterious and she thinks he likes to be that way.

The last unaccounted victor is Vermilion Voltaire. The One victor had disappeared right after his Victory Tour, talks circulate amongst Nine during that time, she could remember the news channels from the Capitol speculating what had happened to him. Although the victors know where exactly Vermilion is, locked away in his own home as he struggles to dissuade between reality and fiction. Chanelle Gieves ascribes it as the product of Balas Beacon's design.

Everyone else is here, answering the invitation that Leroy had put out over a week ago now. The tension seems to tighten up even more when Caligula leaves the private bar, the door shuts and Salvia did not think the atmosphere can be colder than it already is.

Leroy coughs before he stands in the middle of the room, his lackeys; Ajax and Adrestia behind him as he speaks to the rest of the victors.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today," he says as he looks everyone in the eye once with his dark brown eyes, his face is starting to show stress marks and wrinkles, his hair beginning to grey in different places. "I would like you all to stay at least, to discuss the future between all of us and what has happened. Therefore, I propose two topics."

Everyone is being somewhat calm as they all look at the victor take the center. Although Salvia can see from different victors contort into some form of anger, like Fossil from Two and Hamish from Five.

"First topic: the death of Adlay Durum."

The minute he says those words, Salvia hears the whole room erupt in anger. Some shouting at the victor himself, others coming closer to yell at him, Ajax is fighting Arlo from Four from getting closer, with Tide and Triton holding him back.

Others, she notices are arguing with each other. She can hear some of them saying that Adlay's death was a cause to his own, whereas others are saying that no one had bothered to help the man and now he's gone; that his constant drinking is a cry for help that no one had paid attention to.

"I'd like to say something." Salvia says but is drowned by the ruckus caused. "I said I'd like to say something!"

Her shout seems to have resonated with the rest of the group as everyone now stares at her. Salvia's curly brown hair is brushed to the side as she stands, she eyes some of the victors. Some still retain the anger from the previous discussion and others looking supportive to her words.

"No matter what you would have thought about Adlay," she starts. "He was a good man, and between the drinking and the drugs he had been a great supportive network to me and the other tributes he had mentored."

Salvia could hear scoff. She had heard a story once upon a time that Leroy had tried to help Adlay during his Victory Tour, but it was fallen on deaf ears as the boy from Nine continue to damage himself and his mind, continuing to disillusion himself in alcohol and substances.

Maybe he wanted to talk about Adaly as a way of paying his respects; or maybe the victor from Two is feeling remorse for not being able to help him further to what he had already done. She'll never know as Salvia raises the glass of water on her table to the ceiling, everyone had calmed down as they follow suit.

"So, let's raise a glass to one of our own. To Adlay."

Everyone mirrors her as the topic of the Adlay Durum's death concludes. She sits back down on the velvet red seat, Esme gives her a small hug as a well done for stopping not only the fight but uniting the victors at least for a couple of minutes.

"The next topic," Leroy speaks after downing the whiskey he had risen to the sky as respect. "Julius Nepos."

The whole room turns silent again. Salvia could see others look indifferent, whereas other look uncomfortable; as if the sound of his name alone causes a shiver to their spine, Esme and Ahab included. She looks around the quiet room, no one is speaking as Leroy looks around to see if anyone has any information on their current President.

"No one has anything to say?" Leroy says as he looks around once more. "I've met the man once or twice before he became the president, and I can only advice to you newer victors to exercise caution when interacting with this man, that's all I've got to say about him."

No one else had said anything, a few whispers and murmurs around the room, but nothing more than that. Everyone disperses, all going back to either enjoy the rest of the bar, or go straight home, back to their own districts as they prepare themselves for another Hunger Games.

"Wait, Esme," Salvia grabs the Eight victor's arm as she takes her to the corner of the VIP bar. "You need to tell me what's happening to you. Is it him? The new president?"

She saw the way the woman had curled into herself when Leroy spoke about Julius Nepos. Esme didn't say anything as she shakes her head. She looks around at first, watching the remaining victors file out of the room.

"It's not the time, I've got to go and do something first. I promise that I'll explain everything to you soon." She says as she makes for the door, she turns around before leaving. "I'll come to you in person."

She only nods at the retreating form of the Eight victor. She sighs as she's left alone in the room, empty and half-filled glasses scatter the room. There's nothing else in here for her so she goes home, back to Nine as she prepares herself for the next Games.

* * *

The night air chills her living room, the only light illuminating it is the lamp she sits beside. A hot cup of tea sits on the coffee table as she reads a book that she had purchased in the local shop. In her spare time Salvia has come to love books, despite not liking school when she was younger.

If there is one thing that had not changed since she was a child, is that her liking to the night. She likes the feel of the quietness, the feel of silence hit her head and made it clear. She sips on her tea and places it down on the wooden table.

She startles up when she looks at her front door, a rapid knocking coming from it. She isn't expecting anyone, not anyone she knows anyway. She walks cautiously, taking the metal fire poker by her seat. She grips it tightly in her hand, making her way towards the knocking of the wooden door.

Her hand trembles as she touches the brass doorknob, she twists it slowly, the knocking relentless and never ending. She pulls it slowly, her metal weapon poking its head first before her. She sighs and opens the door completely when she sees who it is.

Esme Tripoline looks worse for wear, two weeks since she has last seen her friend and those days have not been nice. Her normally perfect face is stained with her makeup, as if she's been crying and running through the rain. Her hair is greasy, her clothes dishevelled and torn.

"Esme? What's happened to you?" She asks and all the Eight victor could do is shrug as she makes her way into Salvia's home.

"I'm sorry I haven't made it here sooner." She says as she starts to strip off her clothes, Salvia looks away as she watches Esme's naked body retreat upstairs to what she thought is her room.

Slavia just sighs and goes to her kitchen, making another cup of tea as she waits for Esme. The kettle begins to boil the water on the stove, the tell-tale sign of the whistle signifies that it's done. She pours the water into a porcelain white mug. The smell of tea fills her senses just in time Esme walks back into the kitchen, wearing her clothes, her makeup no longer there revealing her natural lightly tanned skin.

Esme sighs as she sits right on top of the island counter of the kitchen. Salvia slides the mug of tea towards her and raises an eyebrow as if to ask her why she is here, in the dead of night. Esme takes a small sip of the hot beverage, she cringes at the taste.

"No sugar?"

"Just…why are you here?" Salvia sighs and goes into one of the cabinets to take a sugar and give it to Esme.

"President Nepos." She says as she scoops one or two sugars into her tea. "He can't be trusted."

"Is that how you got those bruises and scars?" She asks and all Esme could do is sit quietly as she sips some tea.

"At first I thought he was joking, but I learned the hard way that if you don't comply then bad things happen."

"Comply?" Salvia questions.

"I'm being sold," Esme says. "Sometimes to one person, maybe two, and other times to the highest bidder."

"What do you mean by that? Why is the president doing this to you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it's just sex, other times just to see me, but more often it's physical, lots of sick fucks with money and power."

Salvia feels uncomfortable under her own skin as she listens and watches Esme spit out those words. Her pure hatred of the fact that someone this powerful is torturing her, after escaping the arena and reliving it every year.

"That's sick." Salvia spits, after the initial uncomfortableness of it all, she rises up angrier than she ever was. "How dare they do that to you."

She begins to pace the room, Esme just sitting still on the counter. Her face looks about as angry as Salvia's. She stands up and stops the Nine victor in her place. Her anger now seething, Esme's features soften and eventually Salvia's too.

"What about Ahab?" Salvia asks.

"He got the letter from Nepos himself." She says and Salvia could feel herself shudder at the thought.

Ahab has not even been a year into his victory and he's already on the market for the Capitol's sick power play over the victors. There's something disgusting about it all as Salvia thinks more and more into it. Will she be targeted next?

"We can't let this continue." Salvia says looking into Esme's hazel brown eyes with her light brown ones. "This has to stop."

This isn't the deal that victors have signed up for. Victor's should be left alone after their Games, forever away from the limelight, if they wanted to be away from it. Mentoring is hard enough as it is, now they have to entertain the Capitol for money?

"It's different now." Esme shatters Salvia's thinking. "We're no longer under the shadow of President Augustus, we're now under the rule of Nepos, and he has a sick and twisted mind."

"I don't want them to break anyone." Salvia says out loud. "You, Ahab, me? This shouldn't be a thing."

"It is what it is." Esme shrugs and smiles apologetically. "With each instalment of the Hunger Games, more victors are being produced, and with that everyone one of us must be kept in line."

"This is not how you keep us in line." Salvia says as she folds her arms.

"I know."

"We have to do something."

"Not yet."

"But…"

"We don't have enough people to our cause." Esme says as she smiles at Salvia. "We need to be discreet and build our firepower."

"Well you can add me to the cause and I no doubt Ahab might be in it as well."

"And for now, I'll have to endure it, and so will you and I will tell Ahab to do the same." Esme smiles sadly. "I just hope the other victors and newer ones can join our cause."

Salvia doesn't like enduring it, but for the sake of her friendship with Esme she'll just have to grin and bear it. She's right after all, they can't take on Nepos by themselves, they're going to need more people. Ones that are willing to risk their lives to save everyone else.

* * *

 _ **Cade Valentine, Owner of Club Valentino's  
Central Capitol  
Cade's Apartment**_

* * *

I'm back in the comfort of my own home. The sound of partying and loud music echo in the living room. The sun is setting slowly on the horizon, and my reflection is appearing on the floor to ceiling window.

Stripping the moniker of Vincent Cait is bittersweet at best. The rest of the tour became a mixture of suffocating tension and locking myself in my room. Julia is well liked from Four onwards. District Three venerates her for not killing their tributes, but also, they're scared of her, much like I am now.

Tomorrow I'm going to reopen my bar, where I'll meet Julia again, for the first time as Cade Valentine. Hopefully she doesn't recognise me, but that's another problem for tomorrow. I'm happy now that I can relax on my own sofa and watch crappy television.

But my mind wanders back to the districts. They're way of living is unlike that of mines and the victors I admire so much. Their way of life revolves around the whims of the Capitol, forever chained to the Hunger Games. I sigh as I look through the letters, some are bills and others just trash mail.

I'm more interested in the regime of Julius Nepos. His reign didn't last long, and from the next couple of info dump I've been getting through mysterious emails. With Julius Nepos comes a new Gamemaker too, replacing the very safe and pioneer of the Hunger Games, Rexton Price.

There's more too, Nepos himself made a council of trust, hype and yes men to keep him happy. Little does he know that one of those men were none other than Coriolanus Snow, the man that would become president soon enough had a hand in the cookie jar well before Julius Nepos became president.

I want to rest, but I know that with the next Hunger Games looming around the corner, there's never going to be any form of resting.

* * *

 **A/N - And with that, the Victory Tour Arc is concluded.**

 **A new Arc is starting soon, I will dub it as Julius Nepos' Arc. I have it all planned out, and a few sparse victors too. This is where this story takes a break as I go to finish this SYOT I have. Deadline is fast approaching so submit now if you want!**


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